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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197041">to heal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm'>priscilladm</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vadeofspades/pseuds/vadeofspades'>vadeofspades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alkahestry, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Royai - Freeform, Slow Burn, Xing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:01:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vadeofspades/pseuds/vadeofspades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Promised Day, Roy Mustang ponders two things: how to ensure the wellbeing of Riza Hawkeye, and how to follow through on an offer made to him by the Xingese princess who saved Riza's life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. caritas / charity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Promised Day has ended, but Colonel Roy Mustang knows that his journey is just beginning.</p><p>He may not be able to see with his eyes, but he knows that Central Command is in ruins, both literally and figuratively. It will take quite some work to repair the physical infrastructure, and moreover, even more work to regain the trust of the people of Amestris.</p><p>Then, of course, there’s the matter of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.</p><p>Roy feels her hand resting on his shoulder, no doubt because she has lost so much blood that she isn’t fully capable of supporting her own weight. It’s odd to think of her as leaning on him when in reality he has leaned on her so much over these years. She’s the one constant of his life: the foundation to support him, the one to prop him up and quietly ensure his success. And she’s always done this of her own volition.</p><p>He marvels at the fact that this woman, who has sacrificed her entire livelihood to carry out their shared goals, is still willingly here with him. Despite the fact that his lapse of judgment caused him to stray from the path of protection and service they worked so hard to establish. Even after she was used as a pawn to get to him, laying in a pool of her own blood, mere centimeters from death.</p><p>It feels like eons ago that he held her in his arms, reckoning with his own helplessness and inability to save her. Then the young Xingese girl swept in with no introduction whatsoever, like an angel from across the desert, and performed medical alchemy to stop Riza’s bleeding.</p><p>Somehow so much has happened in the few hours since Riza regained her consciousness and looked up at him with her beautiful, kind eyes. Now that he knows she is safe, his task is to find the girl whose name he didn’t catch. He’s lost his sight, but he hasn’t lost his lieutenant, and though he understands the Xingese girl’s assistance is something he will never be able to repay, he realizes he must at least make his gratitude and appreciation clear.</p><p>Roy asks Riza to bring him to the little girl. She protests, arguing that they need to get their injuries treated, but he assures her that he will be brief and that they can go to the hospital once this business is done. He hears her sigh in resignation before she verbally guides him as she walks at his side.</p><p>They stop and he hears some rustling among the grass, assumedly from the little girl standing up. “Colonel, we’re here,” Riza announces.</p><p>Instinctively he directs his attention lower than eye level and offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m sorry, but I never got your name,” he admits sheepishly. </p><p>Roy feels Riza’s hand in the crook of his elbow withdrawing his arm. “Your injuries, sir,” she states with slight reproach. “I apologize on his behalf, miss. He can be a bit… obstinate.”</p><p>“It’s ok!” the little girl answers. Her voice is indeed lower than eye level, and her tone is remarkably chipper given the circumstances. “My name is Mei Chang! I’m the seventeenth royal princess of Xing, from the Chang clan.”</p><p>The name throws him for a loop. <em> I’ve heard that name before somewhere </em>, he thinks to himself. He’s not sure how or why, but he makes a mental note to do some research on the Chang clan of Xing when all is said and done. Whatever that even means.</p><p>“I’m Roy Mustang,” he states. “I’m in the military, and as you probably saw, I’m also an alchemist.”</p><p>It feels odd to introduce himself in this way to a little girl, but after her impressive display of medical alchemy—no, <em> alkahestry is what they call it </em>—he wants to learn more about her skills. Amestris has seen enough violence and destruction; he needs to find out how he can use flame alchemy and alkahestry to help people.</p><p>“And Miss Chang, my name is Riza.”</p><p>He feels his lieutenant remove her hand from his elbow, undoubtedly so she can shake Mei’s hand. Riza has always been much softer and kinder with children; it’s one of his favorite traits of hers. What he wouldn’t give to see her face even more one time, to see her eyes slightly crinkle as she smiles and shakes the hand of her savior.</p><p>“I’m very sorry about what happened to you both,” Mei says.</p><p>Roy can’t see the look on Mei’s face, but her words feel genuine nonetheless. There’s no pity or disdain for his situation—merely childlike sympathy, radiating even more warmly than the sunshine he feels on his skin.</p><p>“Thank you, Miss Chang.” He frowns. “I’m sorry that I can’t see you—are you terribly injured?”</p><p>He wishes he had thought more carefully before opening his mouth. After all, the goal is to ask her about her current state and a question or two about Xingese alkahestry, not lament his own lack of vision. The least he could do is to offer comfort and assistance to a little girl.</p><p>“It’s nothing alkahestry can’t patch up,” Mei responds, seemingly unfazed. “And please, you can call me Mei!”</p><p>“Thank you for healing my lieutenant, Mei,” he says. These words from his mouth feel like an insufficient and borderline inaccurate summary of what this girl has done for him by assisting the most important person in his life, but they’re all he can muster.</p><p>He can hear the smile in Mei’s voice as she answers, “I can tell how important she is to you.”</p><p>Roy wants to—and in fact probably should—feel embarrassed about wearing his heart on his sleeve. After all, Riza’s importance in his life, and his careless display of that, is what separated them for so long and put their lives in peril.</p><p>But this is different. This girl doesn’t have the mind of a killer. She’s a healer.</p><p>“I appreciate your help so much, Miss Mei,” Riza adds. Her voice trails off for a moment, as if there’s more to say. “I hate to ask, but is there any way you might also be able to treat the Colonel’s injuries on his hands?”</p><p>Roy is taken aback by this request. His hands are the least of his concerns right now and can wait; all he wants to do is make sure Riza receives adequate treatment for her injuries. But before he can protest, he feels his lieutenant gently remove the gloves on his hands. The material feels like it’s absorbed a fair amount of blood, and the fresh air stings against his raw skin.</p><p>Riza’s touch is gentle, almost apprehensive. He knows that this gesture is fairly innocuous in full context, but it nonetheless makes his heart skip a beat to feel her fingers lightly wrapped around his wrist, even if it’s only to show Mei the extent of his injuries. Still, the reality is that he has blood on his hands in many ways, and no amount of atonement could ever make him worthy of the kindness and care his lieutenant has given him over these many years.</p><p>Mei hums to herself as she gently traces a finger over his hand, which has the scars of the carved transmutation circle and lots of broken skin from being impaled by Wrath’s sword. “I can treat this, and your other hand too, but I don’t think it’d be much help since it looks like you have soldiers who want to bring you to a doctor.”</p><p>He hears squeaky wheels approach, accompanied by the unmistakably clunky sound of the special issue boots used only in Briggs.</p><p>“Colonel Mustang, please come with us. We need to treat both yours and Lieutenant Hawkeye’s injuries before they get any worse.” The voice is unfamiliar, but the tone is kind and concerned, and he senses no hesitation or defense from Riza.</p><p>“Mr. Mustang, it sounds like they really want to take care of you,” Mei says encouragingly.</p><p>Roy feels Riza attempting to help him into what seems to be a wheelchair. The other soldiers argue with her and try to remind her of her own injuries, but his lieutenant steadfastly refuses to turn the responsibility over to others. She uses one hand on his shoulder to softly nudge his torso down, and her other hand is right above his hip to make sure he sits properly. Her touch reassures him that even if he can’t see her, she’s still alive, still there, still his lieutenant.</p><p>Mei clears her throat. “I should let you two get going, but I hope you both recover quickly! If you’re ever in Xing, please come find me, Mr. Mustang!”</p><p>He smiles. After all, he hasn’t been addressed this way in years; it’s always been Colonel, or Flame Alchemist, or Hero of Ishval. The last person to call him Mr. Mustang with any regularity was Riza, back in their shared childhood—long before he knew about the wounds of flame alchemy on her back, before they plunged into war, before atonement became their highest priority.</p><p>Then, of course, there’s the matter of Xing.</p><p>The blood of Xing flows through Roy from his mother’s side, but it’s hard for him to envision being anywhere but Amestris. Serving this country has given his life meaning in a way he never before thought he could find. He’s never set foot in Xing, and the thought of doing so has never really crossed his mind before.</p><p>But Mei has extended the invitation herself, and the prospect of discovering how to harness the power of alkahestry is deeply intriguing.</p><p>“Take care, Mei,” he says to her. “I’d like to learn more about alkahestry and its healing properties, so I hope we meet again someday.”</p><p>“Yes sir! Please take care!”</p><p>He hears a set of hands grip the push handle of the wheelchair and a feeling of panic washes over him as he realizes he has no idea whether or not his lieutenant is accompanying him. But somehow, she seems to realize his worry, as her voice gently reassures him that she is still by his side. “Sir, don’t worry. I’m right here. They’re pushing me right beside you, and they’re taking us to the hospital now.”</p><p>His worry shifts into a deeper sense of insecurity. After all, her injuries and so much of her life these past years have been because of his inadequacies and dangerous ambitions. In his mind, she deserves so much better than a scarred neck and a blind boss. “I apologize, Lieutenant.”</p><p>Her tone grows more stern. “Colonel, we’re safe because of you, and everyone else. There’s nothing you could possibly apologize for right now.”</p><p>He sighs heavily as the day’s moments all flash through his head. He may not be able to see her, but he can visualize the specific look on her face all the same: furrowed brows accompanied by worried eyes and a deeply comforting, gentle smile. It’s the same look she gives him any time she places his needs above her own.</p><p>“There is plenty to apologize for. I almost lost you twice today: first in my quest for vengeance, then from that damn doctor. I didn’t need to put you through that.”</p><p>“Sir, please,” she says, her voice slightly shaking. “Now is not the time. We’re going to get you to the hospital, make arrangements, and strategize. The work is far from over just because we’re injured. We need to figure out what we will do next.”</p><p>Her words are assertive and confident, but there’s a hesitation in her voice that only he can sense. They’ve spent so much time plotting to save the country from the human transmutation circle that they’ve hardly given a second thought to what would happen after, if their plan did indeed succeed.</p><p>“I know what I’m going to do,” he answers. “I’m going to rebuild Ishval. When that’s done, I’m going to Xing to learn more about alkahestry. This country has seen so much destruction, and it needs to heal.</p><p>“You need to heal,” he adds, after a moment. His voice is softer with these words, and lower, ensuring only she can hear him. He notices how she hesitates to answer, and he’s sure if he could see them, her eyes would be softened. They wouldn’t stay that way for long, however, for they never did. He misses that sight.</p><p>Riza lets out a sigh. “The country comes first, sir. It always has,” she responds and returns her attempt at composure. “We mustn’t let our personal priorities alter the progress of the goals which we have sought after for so long.</p><p>“But,” she pauses, and he hears the consideration of his proposal in her voice, “if you are still set on traveling to Xing after, and only after, the restorations are complete, you will not be going without me to oversee the security of your trip, sir.” </p><p>Roy is content, his mind temporarily at ease by her answer. He had been unsure if she would want to accompany him, so her agreement is reassuring. For now, he decides to let that be a matter of the future, something he tables until after their goals are accomplished. </p><p>“Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye,” a soldier addresses them after Roy hears them approach from somewhere in front of him. “There is an emergency vehicle prepared to transport both of you to the hospital.” </p><p>Roy hears the engine of the ambulance rumbling just faintly as he is wheeled into the cabin. He also hears what sounds like heavy doors being latched together, and his mind goes to Riza as he feels the vehicle accelerate. She is sharing their medical information, and he isn’t surprised to know that she has remembered his blood type and even gives it before her own. </p><p>“I’m sitting just across from you, sir,” she says, and he hears her wince through a sharp inhale. She doesn’t give him a chance to vocalize his concern. “The doctor is trying to start a blood transfusion, Colonel. I’m alright.” </p><p>Blood. <em> Her </em>blood. One of his last sights of the lieutenant was as she laid in what he believed to be a sea of her blood, quickly as it rushed out of her. That picture flashes before him, and the overwhelming helplessness that came with it does too. The scent of iron is still thick in the air, wafting from her clothing and his own. He grazes his fingers against the wounds on his hands and grimaces, but he feels the dried blood, not only his own but he’s sure hers is there too, in the crevices of his skin. He feels tears prick in the backs of his eyes, but quickly he bites them back. She’d been strong—she continues to be strong—for him, and he mustn’t waver, if only for the sake of his lieutenant. </p><p>“Colonel Mustang,” a paramedic addresses him, “I need to clean your hands. There’s a risk of major infection if I don’t.” </p><p>Roy nods and extends his hands, finally experiencing the full, excruciating effects of his injuries previously kept at bay by adrenaline. The paramedic wipes the top and the palm of his dominant hand with an alcohol pad, and Roy bites his lip, swallowing to keep the yelp from escaping his throat.</p><p>“The lieutenant,” he lets out, in a pitch higher than he’s proud of. He clears his throat and continues, “has more serious injuries. Tend to her wounds before mine.” </p><p>Riza sighes. “They don’t have my blood type on hand, Colonel.” He hears her voice tremble, and he knows she's in immense pain even as she's trying to hide it. “There isn’t much they can do for me until we arrive at the hospital.” </p><p>A wave of anger overcomes over Roy, and he feels blood rush through his ears. Heat rises in his chest and neck. He recalls how her hands trembled when she helped him into the wheelchair, how when she held his wrist he was able to gauge her weakened pulse, her labored breathing as she was wheeled into the ambulance. <em> What do you mean there’s nothing you can do? You’re a paramedic, and you’re saying there’s nothing you can do? She’s on the verge of passing out and there’s nothing-  </em></p><p>“Lieutenant Hawkeye’s wounds are much more extensive, Colonel Mustang. We don’t have the supplies on hand to tend to her like she needs.” The doctor rubs an alcohol pad on his other hand, and Roy winces again as it stings. “She’ll receive much better care at the hospital, and I promise, we’ll be there shortly.” </p><p>Riza nudges her foot against Roy’s leg, a signal that she senses his shift in demeanor and for him not to protest, something she’s done in past meetings where his anger almost got the best of him. She isn’t going to let that happen now. “Sir, please worry about yourself. I will be fine.” </p><p>Though he can’t see her subtly desperate expression, Roy knows, without a doubt, that her eyes have met his. He feels it, whereas he is unable to determine if the paramedic is looking at him. In other circumstances, Roy might have verbally chastised the doctor, but the lieutenant’s insistence that he care about himself makes him reconsider. </p><p>The paramedic stands from his place beside Roy. “Ah, we’re here.</p><p>“We’re going to take you and Colonel Mustang through triage to assess your individual injuries and get you both under our care as quickly as possible,” the paramedic explains and takes the handles of Riza’s wheelchair. </p><p>Riza rustles in her seat, and Roy feels the lieutenant’s hand on his knee. “Colonel,” she says, “if we are split up, let the doctors and nurses treat you. You need care as much as I do.”</p><p>He has no intention of being separated, not after everything they’ve been through today. Not again will he let her be taken from his side, he cannot afford to be unaware of her whereabouts in her condition. <em> Her wounds could burst open at any moment, </em> he thinks to himself. <em> She will be treated in the same room as I will.  </em></p><p>Roy shakes his head at the possibility and grazes his hand against hers. “Lieutenant Hawkeye is to remain at my side, at all possible times. That’s an order.” His voice is stern as he hears the medic sigh and a familiar-sounding set of shoes approach and walk behind him.</p><p>“We’ll do everything we can to make sure you aren’t separated,” the original paramedic says and eases him down the ramp of the vehicle. </p><p>
  <em> “We’re short on hospital rooms, we may have no choice but to keep them together.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I think the Flame Alchemist will scorch us if we don’t.”  </em>
</p><p>Though the medics clearly attempt to keep their voices low, Roy cannot help but overhear them as they are rolled out of the ambulance and into the frigid air of the emergency wing of the hospital. He shivers and immediately thinks of Riza, remembering how she trembled and how cool her skin was. </p><p>“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” he asks and looks to his right, recalling where her voice had come from when she spoke to him last.</p><p>Riza is silent for a moment—his heart rate soars—and lets out a quiet gasp when she realizes he spoke to her. “Just, just—” she falters, “fine, Colonel. I’m going to be fine.” </p><p>This doesn’t ease the colonel’s mind, for the increasing weakness in her voice is abundantly clear as it strains her to speak. Roy hopes her body is able to maintain consciousness long enough for the nurses to arrive and begin their care. </p><p>He listens to the medics giving orders to multiple medical associates about blood bags and antibiotics as they increase in speed and take a sharp turn, seemingly through a doorway. He notes the shift in environment by the quietness of the room, the cacophony of the rest of the hospital now faint in his ears. Then the sound of the paramedics’ thick-heeled boots, ease out of earshot. Roy hears another set of shoes enter. </p><p><em> Two people, </em>he determines as the steps diverge and one set stops at his side. Roy’s thankful how his remaining senses have adjusted to compensate for his loss of his sight, and if it wasn’t for the quickened adaptation and intake of his surroundings by his hearing and the lieutenant at his aide, he’s sure the uncertainty of it all would quickly take a toll on his mental stability. Roy then overhears someone shouting orders to get Riza’s vitals, reminding them of her blood type.  </p><p>“Colonel Mustang, I’m Nurse Russell. Nurse Adamson is starting a blood transfusion on Lieutenant Hawkeye now,” a nurse quietly informs him after providing orders about Riza’s procedure. “I’m going to take your blood pressure and measure your heart rate, but I need to ask, do you have any other injuries besides the wounds on your hands?”</p><p>The question takes him aback. While he has other no obvious physical injuries, how does he explain that he cannot see? That his world is shrouded in darkness, that he can no longer witness the restoration of Ishval, that he can no longer see to it that he becomes Fuhrer. (That he doesn’t get to see Riza’s tired and small but genuine smiles, or that he can’t assess her condition within seconds of meeting her eyes.)</p><p>“My sight is gone,” he answers, echoing the words he used with Riza. “There was an explosion that I was in the center of. After a flash of light, I could not see.” He decides to lie, unable to form an explanation for what actually happened, that Truth had decided to establish a cruel fate upon him at the Gate. “Other than that, I have none more.” </p><p>The silence from Nurse Russell is overwhelming, but then again, the reality of the situation is even more devastating than this lie Roy has just told. He feels her remove his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his shirt before wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm. The pump makes a sound and he feels pressure around his arm—it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s certainly different to not be able to see.</p><p>The air around his arm quickly releases and he hears Nurse Russell pick up a clipboard. She makes a note and gently reassures him that his blood pressure is normal, then lets him know that she is going to check his heart rate along the side of his neck. He feels her fingers on top of his pulse and even though she’s already given him a verbal warning, the lack of visual cue is still something he’s getting used to. </p><p>“Thankfully your vitals look normal, sir,” she tells him, withdrawing her fingers and making another note. “We’ll keep you two in the same room for now, and we’ll have the doctor take a look at your eyes to see if there’s anything we can do to help you.”</p><p>Something about her statement disarms him. Of course there’s nothing this nurse or any medical professional could do for him; even Dr. Knox or Dr. Marcoh—the two most brilliant doctors he’s ever met—wouldn’t be able to restore his eyesight. It’s more than modern medicine could conceivably do, given the extraordinary circumstances. At least he knows that Riza will continue to be by his side.</p><p>Nurse Russell helps ease him out of the wheelchair and onto a hospital bed. Though she’s certainly kind and gentle, it’s not quite the same as having his lieutenant helping him. He can hear Nurse Adamson tell Riza that her heart rate is only slightly lower than average, that her blood pressure is only slightly elevated. She reassures Riza that the transfusion should improve her vitals and won’t take long. The recovery time could be as short as 24 hours, she says.</p><p>Another set of flustered-sounding footsteps make their way into the room. “Sir, I need to verify your emergency contact and next-of-kin information. I have a Chris Mustang on file here, is that accurate?”</p><p>Roy feels his heart shatter in half. Christmas has been everything to him: not just an aunt by blood, but a foster mother who cared for him and taught him so many lessons. She gave him the ability to learn alchemy, the ability to easily discern people’s true intentions, the ability to create facades about who he is while maintaining his own authenticity. He knows she’s scrappy and can manage on her own, but he vows to bring her back out of hiding safely one day.</p><p>Still, he doesn’t want or need to go into specifics about why she is no longer the best person to reach out to should anything happen to him. In spite of this day’s turn of events, he still doesn’t know who he can trust.</p><p>Instead he simply says no, and the administrator asks him who they should list instead. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of the question; of course this person doesn’t know the ins and outs of his life, but the answer is so painfully obvious.</p><p>“That would be me,” Riza interjects coolly and confidently.</p><p>The administrator sighs heavily. Roy makes note of this, as it’s borderline insubordination. “With all due respect, you’re not in top form, sir. It would be better for Colonel Mustang to have someone who isn’t currently hospitalized as well.”</p><p>Roy feels his brows scrunch in defensiveness. “You heard the lieutenant. You are to list her as my contact and next-of-kin.”</p><p>Roy can hear the pen scrawling across the paper, seemingly because the administrator has relented. It feels oddly intimate to note Riza as his next-of-kin, almost domestic and idyllic. If life had happened differently, he would have been able to simply call her his spouse. Then again, these daydreams of marriage would never have put her life in danger. If only life were that simple.</p><p>“Lieutenant Hawkeye, our records indicate <em> your </em> next-of-kin and emergency contact is Lieutenant General Grumman himself. Is this accurate? If so, we’ll need to confirm with his office, given his status.”</p><p>It’s not a well-known fact that Grumman is Riza’s grandfather, so Roy is surprised that she has him listed in her hospital records, but then again there’s not really anyone else she can put down regardless. Her parents have been long gone, she is an only child, and she’s never mentioned having any other living family member.</p><p>Riza chuckles dryly. “Yes. He will happily confirm for you himself,” she assures the administrator. “But my next-of-kin is Colonel Mustang. It’s better that way, given the delicate political situation and Grumman’s age.”</p><p>He notes how labored her breathing sounds, how she needs to speak slowly and carefully and with intention. Both nurses notice the same and urge her to stop speaking.</p><p>It’s clear that the administrator doesn’t feel like putting up a fight about anything, so he bids them farewell and shuffles out of the room quickly, shutting the door behind him loudly.</p><p>“I apologize for his gruffness, sirs,” Nurse Russell offers. “As you can imagine, we’re quite busy today, and we want to ensure we provide the best care both medically and administratively.”</p><p>It’s the nicest thing anyone at this hospital has said to them at the hospital, and he’s grateful for this authentic kindness. Aside from the administrator’s clear frustrations, so much of this day has been about the inherent warmth and connection of humanity.</p><p>“Lieutenant, I understand that the biggest concern for you was your throat, so the medics didn’t examine the rest of you,” Nurse Adamson states. “Before I can administer the transfusion, I’ll need to give you a brief physical examination to ensure you’re not injured anywhere else. Please, sit with your legs hanging off the hospital bed so I can take a full look.”</p><p>Roy hears her shift, wincing under her breath. All he wants to do is hold her again and remind her of how strong she is—nurses and anti-fraternization be damned—but he’s left powerless and blind, hoping that medicine will save her.</p><p>“Is there a chance this transfusion will go wrong?” He notes that his question sounds more like a gruff demand, so he adds, “I’m simply concerned about the lieutenant, that’s all.”</p><p>Nurse Adamson reassures him that the treatment is scientifically sound and safe—the only adverse effect they’ve witnessed so far have been mild allergic reactions. Her voice is gentle and she seems to understand just how meaningful Riza is to him. He wonders if it’s too obvious, but at the end of this day, all that matters is that they’ve made it through.</p><p>She lets Riza know that she appears to be functioning well and proceeds to warn her she is removing her clothing to get her into a hospital gown. He hears the innocuous shuffle of her jacket and top, and all seems fine until both nurses audibly gasp in unison.</p><p>“Lieutenant Hawkeye, what’s this on your back?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>vade: hello, all! priscilla came up with this idea a couple of weeks back, and i expressed great interest in the idea as well, so she approached me about collaborating on a fic together! and even though i’d never written a fic with someone else, i was absolutely for it. and now, after multiple announcements of this fic and sharing our immense excitement on our respective tumblrs, the first chapter is here! it was a lot of fun getting to write and bounce off ideas with priscilla, and i had a blast doing so! </p><p>y’all better settle in for a ride, this one won’t be anything short of a slow burn. but there will be fluff! and it will be cute, i guarantee :D</p><p>priscilla: vade covered most of it, but know that even though we have a pretty good idea of where we're going with this, we're open to feedback. we're excited to see how this story progresses and hope you are too!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. patientia / patience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Roy realizes just what the nurses are about to see, and he nearly panics in an attempt to divert their attention from the lieutenant's back. He slings his legs off the side of the bed and stands, flailing his arms around to find a surface. He then grabs what he assumes to be the wooden side table between the two beds and steadies himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel Mustang, are you alright?” Nurse Russell asks with heightened concern in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy stumbles but catches himself before he can fall, stepping forward again. “There are urgent matters I must share with the lieutenant,” he explains quickly, though his rushed tone is no help hiding the obvious lie. He finds another surface to hold on to and grips the sheets of the adjacent bed. He continues to stagger forward, unable to fix the pattern of his steps without the visual cues he is so accustomed to having. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, is there any way it can wait until after Lieutenant Hawkeye is changed into her— Colonel Mustang!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy rams his leg into the metal frame of the hospital bed and collapses, the shock of pain ridding him of any momentum he might have had. He curses and hits the ground as he hears the sound of both of the nurses’ shoes shuffling across the floor to aid him. He only listens for the lieutenant, however, and he hopes his distraction has bought her enough time to keep the nurses from viewing her tattoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it’d been years since he’s seen her tattoo—or even her back—in full view, he remembers the sight all too well. He studied it once, when she generously and trustingly let him decipher her father’s research after his passing, even while the ink seemed fresh and her skin was inflamed and raw to the touch. He recalls the initial awe he felt at the sight of the intricate, alchemical array and the knowledge in which it had contained, but worse, he also recalls the anger that rose within him when he remembered it was her father that did this to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years later, Roy made a promise to relieve her of the pain this tattoo had caused her—the pain he had caused her. He followed through, defacing her back and marring the skin with his flames to where the tattoo and the secrets were indecipherable. That day was the last day he saw her back in full; after leaving her with deep scars scattered over the skin of her back, he vowed to never hurt again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza has said they only ache when she sleeps on her back, but while working well past normal office hours, Roy’s seen her writhe in discomfort and fight for relief of the pain caused by those scars. He has never fully recovered from inflicting such physical and mental agony upon Riza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy hopes that if the future is bright enough, he might find a way to heal her scars and relieve her of the pain in which he had caused so many years ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alkahestry is for healing, he thinks, maybe there's a way-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt, Colonel Mustang?” Nurse Russell asks, and he feels her hand at his elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides the pain in his shin that he knows will fade soon, Roy is unscathed. He shakes his head. “It’ll take more than that to hurt me,” he answers coolly, brushing off his pants and attempting to stand. He is halted by both of the nurses, their grip on his arms increasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both nurses exhale, relieved that he isn’t hurt. “Let’s get you back on the bed, Colonel Mustang,” Nurse Adamson suggests, and she and Nurse Russell help him off of the floor and back onto his hospital bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Lieutenant Hawkeye, you got into your gown,” Nurse Adamson notes. “But if you find yourself struggling to change, don’t hesitate to let one of us know. We want to help you in every way we can, and even small things such as that fall under our care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy relaxes, relieved neither have to explain the tattoo or the scars. General Grumman has helped omit it from her medical records, but instances such as these are almost unavoidable in their line of work. Roy knows they have to be as careful as possible, and he doesn’t mind taking a fall to protect Riza’s secret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that goes for you too, Colonel Mustang,” Nurse Russell adds, “If you need to stand for any reason, just ask one of us first and we will assist you as much as we can.” Her words are kind, full of genuine care for his health. She tells him that she will now begin administering treatment for his hand and starts by flushing the wounds with cool water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy can’t help but focus on Nurse Adamson as she explains to Riza about her procedures. She says she will first clean and flush the wounds on her shoulder and neck, and she will then administer a local anesthetic injection to numb the injured areas before beginning to stitch her wounds shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy almost laughs at the simplicity of the procedure, but he knows she’ll likely require more complex and deeper stitching to close the skin. He wants his lieutenant to receive nothing less than the best care, and he is confident that these nurses will provide it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nurse Adamson explains that she is starting an intravenous line for the lieutenant’s blood transfusion, and he hears Riza wince lightly when the nurse says she has begun the drip. She says that the procedure will take somewhere between an hour and four hours, but if all goes well and she shows no symptoms of an allergic reaction, the transfusion will most likely take less than two hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel Mustang, are you listening?” Nurse Russell breaks his thoughts as she pours another stream of cool water over his wounds. “I asked you if you understood my explanation of the anesthetic injection.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy quickly nods. “Yes, ma’am. I understand, and you may proceed.” He isn’t worried about this procedure; he’s had multiple run-ins throughout the years with anesthetic and sutures. The nurse gently turns over his hand and rubs the edges of his wound with an alcohol pad. Roy feels a short-lived sting along with a sudden sensation of pins and needles as he loses the feeling in his right hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now, the other hand,” Nurse Russells adds, and he experiences the same effects of numbness in his left hand as he does in his right. “Please relax as much as you can, Colonel Mustang. I’m not sure how long this will take, but I'll be as careful as possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy wishes he could witness her perform the procedure and focus on the controlled movements of Nurse Russell’s hands as she stitches his skin back together. He wishes he could watch Nurse Adamson as she tends to the lieutenant, monitoring her condition with his own eyes, but he must adjust to the lack of sight and learn to depend on his hearing for his assessment of the lieutenant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hospital room is oddly quiet as time continues to pass; the only sounds quietly filling the room are the intravenous drip of the blood transfusion, the metal instruments clinking against tin trays, the equally centered and steady breaths of both nurses as they work, and Riza’s occasional pained sighs as she breathes. Roy nearly breaks each time she does this, knowing she’s hurting and there’s nothing he can do to alleviate her suffering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a side of him that wants to order her to leave his side and retire to a civilian life, to recover without the pain or responsibilities of the military over her head. It is the logical thing for her to do, after being injured so terribly in today’s turmoil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knows Riza more than anyone else and loves her nonetheless—more than a colonel ever should. The other side of him understands that she would never accept this order, and that he would be stripping her of her chance to atone and restore the future of this country. She’s come too far to end it now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy wouldn’t give up his work towards atonement, even in his blinded state. The coup d’etat is only the first step in a long walk towards the goal of rebuilding the Ishvalan region and reforming the government of Amestris. He, now more than ever, needs the lieutenant to guide him on that path. Dreams of a life of domesticity aren’t worth straying and sacrificing all they’ve worked towards. He’s a selfish man to keep her around, but he’d be an even more selfish man to make her leave because of one injurious day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Has anaesthetic always made him this sentimental?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy wonders how long the nurses have been tending to Roy and Riza and how much longer until the feeling returns to his hands. He thinks about the effects the anaesthetic has on his lieutenant, how she is likely unable to feel her neck or her shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That means she isn’t hurting in those places. Good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he rationalizes, trying to subside his paranoia. He continues to remind himself that his unwarranted, irrational and fleeting thoughts about Riza—</span>
  <em>
    <span>the lieutenant is dying on that bed over there and there is nothing I can do</span>
  </em>
  <span>— simply cannot be true and are likely side effects of the anaesthetic that will cease upon leaving his system. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s the final knot,” Nurse Russell announces, and Roy hears her set her utensils down on a metal tray. “You did wonderful, Colonel Mustang. I had no trouble at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy smiles; The nurses have given him no reason to protest or cause a fuss. “Thank you, Nurse Russell,” he replies, grateful that his procedure is now complete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are quite welcome, sir,” Nurse Russell replies, and he hears her stand from her seat. “I’m going to be working with Nurse Adamson on Lieutenant Hawkeye’s shoulder, but if you need anything, just let one of us know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods and makes a note to hold any requests he might have until the nurses finish lieutenant’s procedure. He wants their focus solely on Riza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re nearly through with your shoulder, Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Nurse Adamson says softly to console the lieutenant. “With Nurse Russell at my aid, it will go a lot quicker and we’ll get you on antibiotics after your transfusion is complete.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy’s immensely thankful for such kind-hearted and attentive nurses. They are compassionate, diligent, and most of all, understand just how much the lieutenant means to him. His devotion to her has often been seen as incomprehensible by those not close to the both of them, but these nurses have picked up the wordlessness of their bond without question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Roy doesn’t need anything in the remaining time it takes for the nurses to finish Riza’s stitching. He hears the nurses clean up the area and remind the lieutenant to notify either of them if she experiences any discomfort with her sutures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, there’s a knock—a familiar one, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly coded one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks—on the door. Roy can’t place who it might be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s on the tip of my tongue, I know that knock-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirs, you have a visitor,” Nurse Adamson says, and he hears the door creak open. “You can come in, Lieutenant General Grumman.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy hears the old man’s distinct footsteps make their way into the room as he asks the nurses for privacy. He notices that the general uses his deceptively sweet tone—the kind he uses when he’s up to something—and Roy laughs to himself. It’s a wonder how this man, who in the past had no qualms about blowing up Bradley’s train and plotting against the top brass, still has it in him to feign any form of innocence. But this is his mentor and guide nonetheless, someone who has taught him everything he knows about navigating the politics of the Amestrian military.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nurses are reluctant to leave Roy and Riza alone, citing their injuries and other needs, but Grumman assures them that he will make his visit brief and will call for them if they need anything. Satisfied with this answer, they walk outside and close the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mustang, you’ve gone and broken my granddaughter!” Grumman exclaims. His words would sound harsh to anyone who might not know him well, but Roy knows that this is nothing more than a playful jab and doesn’t take it personally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza groans, and Roy can picture the accompanying look on her face with pursed lips and slightly rolled eyes. “Sir, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she responds emphatically, letting him know that the nurses have been administering top-notch care to both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumman chuckles. “I suppose, dear, but did you really have to remove me as your next-of-kin? I don’t think I’m quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>old yet.” He pauses. “And to replace me with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all people? You wound me, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them laugh, and it feels good to be able to enjoy a joyful moment like this, but Roy doesn’t feel completely whole. After all, technically Grumman has been working towards the same goal as him, both an ally and a competitor. Now that Roy is blind, he doubts that there will be any chance for him to work towards the rest of his own goals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saving the country from Father’s evil plans for the Promised Day was the right thing to do, but Roy wishes it didn’t have to be at his expense. He doesn’t know how he’ll be able to live independently at all, let alone atone for his sins and actualize his and Riza’s vision for the country. Truth’s sense of justice is sick and twisted, especially considering the fact that Roy was forced to perform human transmutation against his will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a darkness far more expansive than his blindness, a desolation that even the Ishvalan desert can’t rival. He’s keenly aware that wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to change his current state, but it doesn’t make it any easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“General, I’m blind,” Roy offers, before he even has a moment to register the gravity of sharing this piece of information. It must be the anaesthetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s unfortunate, Colonel,” Grumman responds. “It’d be a shame if all the work you did were for nothing.” His tone has noticeably shifted into one far more calculated, and Roy can hear him stand up to walk towards Riza.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, you can’t expect us to simply sit back idly as the rest of the military puts in the work,” Riza protests. “We’ve been to hell and back so many times. We’ve earned the right to be able to put this country back together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is impressed that she still manages to have so much fire in her, even in spite of her current condition. Grumman is her grandfather, but he’s also a much higher ranked officer, and her indignation could be easily construed as insubordination. Roy may be the one with the Flame Alchemist moniker, but if Riza ever develops any interest in alchemy, she certainly could give him a run for his money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumman hums in apparent assent. “Dear, that isn’t what I mean. Colonel Mustang may not be able to see, and you might be a little banged up, but that doesn’t mean you’re not able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>things.” He pauses. “Fuhrer is already a difficult job on its own. I can’t imagine what it would be like in that position without the ability to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The colonel’s hands ball up into fists and his fingernails dig into the skin of his palm. He knows that if it weren’t for the anaesthetic he’d be in immense pain, so out of respect for Nurse Russell’s swift and gentle work, he quickly releases his grip to avoid messing up the stitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect, Lieutenant General Grumman, I was on the front lines of the Ishvalan conflict, and I was on the front lines of today’s battle as well.” It feels like his voice is either going to shake in frustration or rise in anger, but he makes his best attempt at keeping a level tone. “It was through </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> swift thinking that we were able to save Mrs. Bradley, who had nothing to do with any of this. And I don’t recall asking you to blow up Bradley’s train, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so much more he wants to say about how he deserves this and he’s worked hard for so long; but he looks in the direction of his lieutenant, and even though he cannot see her, what matters more than anything else is that she is still there at his side. He would trade his State Alchemist certification, his ability to do alchemy, even his rank—all to ensure the safety and comfort of his adjutant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s careful not to say any of this, not just because of Grumman but also because of Riza. She’d admonish him and tell him to not throw their goals away for her sake, but at the end of the day, it would all be meaningless to Roy without her there anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old man’s tone picks up a more casual cadence again. “Relax, you two. All I’m saying is that, perhaps our Flame Alchemist might not be the best candidate for Fuhrer. He’d make a fantastic General in training, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy’s frustration rears its ugly head as he asks Grumman who will run the country instead. He names off options they all know aren’t viable: Major General Armstrong has already left for Briggs; Brigadier General Klemin and Brigadier General Edison are both awaiting trial for their part in the conspiracy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir.” Riza’s calm yet firm voice recenters him, since she always knows how to talk him down when he’s in the midst of a panic-induced ramble. “We’re lucky. Your condition could be considered grounds for discharge, but I don’t think that’s what Lieutenant General Grumman is saying. I think he’s merely saying that becoming Fuhrer isn’t a possibility right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That lieutenant of yours is a sharp one, Colonel Mustang,” Grumman remarks. “I couldn’t imagine myself running this country without your expert team, based out of Eastern Command, helping to rebuild the Ishvalan region.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sentence is preposterous, and Roy is painfully humbled and outmaneuvered yet again. The ability to retain his position and rebuild Ishval is a consolation prize, an attempt to placate him while Grumman gets to take credit for Roy’s calculated thinking and decisive action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet he knows this country has been subject to other people’s petty personal politics and ambitions for far too long, so he refuses to give in to his helplessness and frustration. The people of Ishval deserve more. The people of Amestris deserve more, too. Throwing away this opportunity out of sheer pride would be a slap in the face to not just his own hard work but that of his adjutant too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be an honor to do so, General Grumman,” Roy responds coolly. “I will personally see to the successful restoration of Ishval.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I will remain at Colonel Mustang’s side every step of the way. I’ll do whatever it takes to get to the finish line,” Riza remarks. She adds with an uncharacteristic hastiness, “Now General, could you please excuse me? I need to use the restroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense, sweetheart. Let me help you up and get you to the door, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite how despondent he feels about his prospects, Roy is nonetheless soothed by the idea that his lieutenant will continue to remain right at his side to guide him, and even more comforted by the fact that she at least has her grandfather to assist her in her time of recovery. Grumman might be a scheming, calculating opportunist, but reducing him to just those traits is unfair. He’s also a loving grandfather, a sharp mentor, and a fierce patriot of the country of Amestris.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closes softly as Riza makes her way out to the nurses, and Grumman walks over in Roy’s direction. He hears the old man take a seat in the chair next to his bed before asking Roy how old he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“30, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not getting any younger, nor am I. You really should give some serious consideration to my suggestion about marriage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here he goes again. That old joke.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I know you think I’ve been kidding all of these years,” Grumman continues. “But that’s not the case. I think about it often. She deserves the world, my granddaughter. And, as she just demonstrated, there’s no one more devoted to you than she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy sighs. “Sir, soldiers in the same chain of command cannot engage in relationships. There are laws about this, and you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His answer is truthful, but it barely even scratches the surface of why he has never moved forward with attempting a relationship with his lieutenant. He knows that he’s broken her heart, albeit platonically, in so many ways over these years. Leaving her alone with her father, in order to join the military. Bastardizing the secrets of flame alchemy in the name of the military in Ishval. Pushing the Elric brothers harder than children should be pushed. Giving into wrath and vengeance in pursuit of Envy, Hughes’ killer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man like him, with blood on his hands, could never deserve a woman as strong, capable, kind hearted, and driven as her. He doesn’t even consider himself worthy to be her commanding officer, let alone a suitor. She could never possibly see him as anything more than her colonel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumman laughs. “Mustang, didn’t we just agree that I’d assume the fuhrership?” He clears his throat, but in the process of doing so erupts into a coughing fit. Roy can’t tell if this is intentional or not. “It would look suspicious to do away with certain laws for your own benefit if you were to become Fuhrer, but I don’t think people would bat an eyelash at an old widower making such a change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It dawns on Roy that not only is the old man serious right now, but also that every preceding suggestion of marriage has been genuine, too. The knowledge that his mentor finds him a worthy match for his granddaughter is touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I both know she isn’t mine to give away, but I just want you to give it some serious thought. I’m not going to be around forever, and I’d like to see her smile a little more. She deserves it, after all she’s been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice trails off, and Roy senses a hint of the general’s own sadness and regret. He’s not privy to the full extent of their relationship, but he knows that Grumman hasn’t always been present in Riza’s life, and it’s a burden that the old man has carried by himself for many years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knock at the door, and the door creaks slightly, to alert them to Riza returning from the restroom. Roy hears Grumman motion towards the door to help Riza back into her hospital bed, despite her insistence on being able to move about on her own. The old man is smarter and more cunning than people think, but at the end of the day he’s also a grandfather who deeply loves and cares for his only living relative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon getting Riza settled, the general mumbles a hasty goodbye and makes his exit, telling Roy to simply think over his proposal as he closes the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza asks what Grumman means, and Roy assures her that it isn’t anything to worry about. His heart feels fit to leap out of his chest, but he hopes that his voice is able to mask this odd combination of excitement and fear about what the future may hold for him and his lieutenant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is startled by a lick on his hand, dangling from the hospital bed. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does he know why he’s being licked (or by whom) until he hears Riza’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad dog, Hayate,” she says firmly. “Now you’ve gone and woken up the colonel. Sorry about that, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black Hayate whimpers softly and Roy hears his collar jingle as he moves across the room excitedly. The dog’s tail makes a thud on the ground from all the wagging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately Roy’s concern shifts to the lieutenant, as he asks if the transfusion was successful and if she needs anything else. She reassures him gently that all is well and that she is on her way to a relatively painless recovery; so much so, in fact, that the nurses have stopped constantly monitoring them and have decided to only come every few hours. According to Riza, he’s been asleep for a little over an hour, and that Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Second Lieutenant Vato Falman, and Master Sergeant Kain Fuery arrived with Black Hayate shortly before Roy woke up. (She also advises him not to worry about Hayate, who is in the more-than-capable hands of Fuery while she is in the hospital.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shares with the officers his situation: he is unable to see, and therefore not a suitable Fuhrer candidate, but has been tasked nonetheless with rebuilding Ishval. Breda and Fuery are quick to commit themselves to Roy once more, but Falman apologetically shares that he is returning to Briggs with the Northern forces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you understand, Colonel. I am deeply grateful for what you have done to support me, and I will always be loyal to you. I simply see a better future for myself with that unit,” Falman explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though slightly disappointed, Roy isn’t in the least bit offended or hurt. Major General Armstrong is an excellent leader, and Falman’s career trajectory is far more promising up north than it would ever be in the east or in Central.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will need to do significant research on their practices and beliefs to ensure a successful restoration. The Central Library has an extensive section on Ishval, and I believe it will be helpful to commit that information to memory as best as you can, sir,” Falman aptly points out. “I am set to return to Briggs tomorrow, but I have read through most of the Ishval section and will leave a list of books that I recommend you study.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuery volunteers to pick up some readings from the Central Library, and Breda volunteers to help read and take notes for Roy. For the first time in a long time, it finally feels like he has something less dangerous and more fulfilling to work towards, with a team he has worked hard to develop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All it took was a little patience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your orders, sir?” Breda asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been almost twenty-four hours since the lieutenant asked him the same question in the tunnel. Roy briefly thinks about how the loyalty of his subordinates has remained the same despite just how much else has changed in no less than a day. He is proud to have such a dedicated unit, even after the revelation of his blindness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Falman, go to the Central Library and check out every book about Ishvalan region. I want culture, agriculture, religion—anything and everything you can find.” Roy naturally returns to his sterner tone for these orders. “Fuery, go to my apartment and retrieve all books in my personal library about Ishval. There’s a spare key in my post box, the combination is my birthdate. Breda, when he returns, you’ll work with Lieutenant Hawkeye to compile a comprehensive list of subjects. We’ll start from there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy hears their heels clack in unison. “Sir!” By sound of their footing, Falman and Fuery shuffle across the room to the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel,” Falman speaks, almost apprehensively. “Amestris has a raised tactile language for the blind. If you would like, I can also check out textbooks to help you learn the basics ” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falman’s proposal shakes Roy, who has yet to fully come to terms with the prospect of permanent blindness. A world enveloped in darkness he cannot escape, one without his vision for the future. (Or the side of Riza that only she lets him see.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can help you learn, sir,” Fuery adds. “I learned about the language in my communications studies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy agrees to this offer, hoping the books will help him further adjust to blindness. Falman tells the colonel he and Fuery are leaving, and will both be back as soon as they gather everything he’s asked them to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods. “Be safe,” he says, without hesitation. There’s a high chance that the day’s destruction also partially compromised the infrastructure of Central City. Sending Falman and Fuery into the mess is an undeniable risk, but they assure him they will be cautious no matter what as the door shuts behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza is the one to break the momentary silence of the hospital room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what are the rest of my orders, Colonel?” she asks, unconcerned by her condition and eager to receive her instructions. Roy hears Black Hayate whine softly, as if he’s asking the same question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your orders are to continue resting, Lieutenant,” he returns smugly. Roy can practically see her deadpan expression, with slightly rolled eyes and a hesitant smile on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza sighs. “Sir,” she chides, “just because I’m bound to this hospital bed, does not mean I am useless.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Hawkeye, you can help me quiz the Colonel on what he already knows,” Breda suggests. “I think that would be a great help. And I’m sure the Colonel would appreciate it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy agrees, and he begins by reviewing and sharing his knowledge on Ishval. He explains what he knows about basic topics, such as its basic agricultural systems and topographical features, the different districts and regions, and the main religious and cultural aspects. He deliberately doesn’t breach the subject of the war, only carefully mentioning the estimated population of the Ishvalan people after the extermination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His last history class at the military academy was a simple, six-week course about the historical enemies of Amestris. Naturally Ishval was included in the curriculum, but upon his own independently conducted studies, Roy learned that much of those prior teachings were false, and the information had been greatly altered to disparage the Ishvalan nation, to establish them as an enemy, as useless to Amestris. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was shameful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Roy thinks, and he scorns himself daily for believing even a word of the corrupted rhetoric he was taught. If not for his own research, Roy would still regard the prejudiced and falsified information as fact, and he shudders to think how many soldiers still do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s unsure whether the class in question had been reserved for State Alchemist candidates, as some of his were, so he asks, “Did either of you take a class on historical enemies of the state when you were at the academy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” Breda answers as he rustles through the sheets of notes. “It was one of my later classes, though, so I don’t remember much. What about you, Lieutenant Hawkeye?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza takes a moment to respond while recalling her time at the academy, and Roy listens as she recites her schedule under her breath. “Yes, I did,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy almost regrets asking, and though she’s never fully discussed her time at the academy, the experience could not have been easy for Riza, even with her status as a promising sniper. Though he has never faced the disadvantages of being a woman in the military, he knows such discrimination is there, and it’s another one of the reasons he’s so protective of Riza around the male coworkers outside of their unit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a terrible class,” Riza declares, her tone stern and full of disdain. “It was nothing but propaganda against Ishval and our other adversaries. I don’t know if it is still being taught, but I can only hope they’ve changed the curriculum since we took it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza’s confirmation and their shared revulsion inspires Roy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Roy begins as he looks in her direction. “Make a note for me to speak to Grumman about changing the curriculum of the military history classes at the academy. We can’t have future soldiers believing what we were taught if we want to change the people’s view of Ishval.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza complies, and he hears her take a sheet of paper from Breda before penning down his request. “Colonel, we need to keep a list of policy changes that we’ll bring General Grumman’s attention, so if you think of anything else, tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods, and he’s glad the lieutenant is there to keep him straight. He hadn’t even thought of starting a list for all the policy changes he has in mind; having one will make presenting his ideas to the old general much more organized . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse sticks her head in to tell them that Sergeant Fuery is currently downstairs having trouble with the colonel’s belongings. Breda decides to go help him and leaves Roy and Riza on their own, reminding them to call for a nurse if they need anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you, Colonel Mustang?” Riza asks, just as Breda shuts the door behind himself. There is no pity in her voice, just genuine concern and compassion. “I can imagine this is difficult for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost hurts how formal she is with him, even when it’s just the two of them. He wishes she could use his first name when they are alone, as a simple shift away from the professionalism they’ve maintained for all these years. But Roy understands that even the smallest change in their dynamic could jeopardize all that they’ve established if witnessed by the wrong people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, but I agree with you that we’re lucky,” Roy says. In some twisted way, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> lucky. Lucky to be alive for one, but also immensely lucky to still have the opportunity to further their plans for the nation of Amestris and Ishval. He would just have to learn to play with the hand that Truth had so cruelly dealt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy looks in the direction of the lieutenant. “Thank you, Hawkeye. I wouldn’t be able to do this if it wasn’t for you. I know Grumman means the best for both of us, but I couldn’t help but be angry when he said I couldn’t be the new Fuhrer. Everything we’ve worked towards...” he trails off, shaking his head at the thought. “You handled that situation much better than me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel, don’t think for a moment that I’m not as frustrated as you are,” Riza says, darkening her tone. “There’s no telling what Grumman will do when he hears about our plans for after the restorations, when the trials start—but he’s agreed to go forward on what we want to do in the immediate future. Right now, that’s all we can ask for. We’re going to work with what we have, as we’ve always done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy feels a bit of his usual confidence return at her reassurance. “You’re right,” he says, smiling at Riza. “So what do you say—to the finish line?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza chuckles softly. “Yes, Colonel, to the finish line.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“We’re back!” Breda announces as he enters the hospital room, and Roy hears what he assumes to be stacks of books hitting the floor at the end of his hospital bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuery groans as he enters behind Breda and Roy hears him add books to the stack. “Colonel, I didn’t know you had such an extensive library on Ishval. I nearly cleared out half your shelf. The rest were just detective and romance novels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy hears Riza suppress a laugh. “I’ve been preparing for the restorations for a long time, and I don’t believe in preparation without proper education,” he says coolly, hoping the other comments about his library go unnoticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without missing a beat, Riza asks, “Are romance novels necessary for proper preparation, sir?” Roy’s sure he can hear the smirk through her voice. “Sergeant Fuery might need to go back and get those if they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuery is quick to object, stating that he isn’t keen on picking up any more irrelevant literature. Roy assures him that he’s retrieved more than enough, much to Fuery and Breda’s shared relief. Breda informs the colonel that he has explained to Roy’s plans to become Fuhrer to Maria Ross, and that she is uninjured and guarding their room at the nurses’ approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like you have the most books on agriculture, so I think we should start there,” Breda says, and Roy hears him flipping through the pages of his notes. “What are the main two irrigation methods mainly used in the Ishvalan region?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Breda, couldn’t you give me a harder question?” Roy scoffs. He answers and explains the two main methods: drip irrigation, a system of crop irrigation involving controlled delivery of water directly to plants through a network of tubes or pipes, and surface irrigation, where water is applied and distributed over the surface of the soil by gravity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breda laughs. “That’s correct. But don’t get too cocky, sir, we’ve got a long way to go.” He then asks him about the main method of farming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy thinks for a moment, unsure of the answer. “The farming method that’s used in the Ishvalan region, they mainly double crop.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, that’s close,” Breda pauses to check his notes. “But it’s called dual cropping. Now think, you’ve got to know this stuff inside and out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah,” he defends, “and I do know it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so? Which two crops are the Ishvalans known for cultivating?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wheat and cotton.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s correct.” Breda hums. “Not a bad guess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy laughs. “Come on, give me some credit. I’ve been researching this stuff long before now.” He then hears from across the room what sounds like the voice of Maria Ross. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s hoping to make amends with Ishval. He wants to make things right before becoming the Fuhrer,” she explains, and he wonders who she’s speaking to. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A nurse, maybe another soldier? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, ambitious. And what makes him so sure he’ll become the Fuhrer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That voice...” Roy says under his breath, and then he realizes just who she’s talking to. He turns to look at where he heard their conversation. “How long have you been in here, Doctor Knox?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar-sounding boots of the surly doctor approach and stop near the end of his bed. “Not long,” he says and chuckles lightly. “So, you don’t look so bad. How are you adjusting?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I can’t get any rest,” he says and raises his hand to point in Breda and Fuery’s direction. “Thanks to these pests.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I meant those eyes of yours, Roy. How are they?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy wonders how Doctor Knox learned of his blindness, but it’s likely that word has spread across Central by now. “Huh, right,” he says and brings his hands to his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I envisioned a better future, and this is the price I had to pay for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The colonel can’t help but feel as though he shouldn’t have been the one to pay that price, but he would have rather it been himself than someone else, like his lieutenant. He doesn’t want to think about what Truth might have taken from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy hears the shock of the situation in Doctor Knox’s  voice as he asks if the colonel is ok with his situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing his hand away from his face, Roy smiles and returns to his normal appearance of confidence. “Well I wouldn’t say okay, but still. I won’t let it stop me from moving forward.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So tell me something,” Knox begins. “You’re going to aid in the restructure of Ishval?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy lowers his eyes. “The Ishvalan War of Extermination...” he sighs, “That’s where everything went wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right there,” Knox laments. “Both for our country, and for you and me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time to correct it,” Roy declares and looks at the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct it?” Knox implores. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods, explaining that he has been tasked with calling off the military occupation and returning their Holy Land to the Ishvalans left living in the slums. He smiles and exhales, remarking that there’s still a lot to be done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuery adds, “We owe them plenty. We’d all be dead now if it wasn’t for Scar and the Ishvalans. It’s the very least we can do to repay them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, Falman enters the hospital room, and announces his arrival with the requested materials. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know this won’t erase our sins,” Riza says softly, “But it’s not too late to fix things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doctor Knox stammers before saying, “This room just reeks of optimism.” He pauses for a moment. “Hey, Doctor Marcoh, listen to this. They’re already one step ahead of you in here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy raises his eyebrows in question. “Marcoh? Doctor Marcoh’s here?” He then hears another set of footsteps enter the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel Mustang,” the gravelly voice of Doctor Marcoh says.  Roy hears him take something from his pocket. “I’ve brought a Philosopher's Stone with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy gasps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But those were all destroyed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe that it might be able to return your eyesight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so.” Roy knows how Philosopher's Stones are made, and wonders if it would even be right to use one for his own benefit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This stone here…” Marcoh explains, “I created this stone by sacrificing the lives of many Ishvalans. It might be presumptuous of me to ask this, but,” he pauses, and Roy knows he is fighting the guilt of his crimes. “If your intentions are to help to help their relatives...” Marcoh trails off again. “No, I have no right to speak for those whose lives I’ve taken. So I’m asking this as a personal request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me heal you with this stone so you can restore Ishval!” Marcoh finally declares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy’s mind reels at the idea of getting back his sight, and he can’t help but smile at the possibility. “I know some people who might not like this, especially Fullmetal.” He pauses and looks up at the doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy then decides what he is going to do, with just one condition to his agreement. </span>
  <span>“But I will accept your offer. And I’ll devote my life to seeing Ishval restored. But first things first, there’s someone else who needs that stone even more than I do. You can heal me after you heal him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Havoc.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>vade: and that was chapter 2! priscilla and i covered a lot of ground in this chapter, which is super exciting considering how much we plan to cover in the coming chapters! it felt good to write with team mustang, especially fuery as always. but i hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you have any feedback, let us know! </p><p>priscilla: i have a soft spot in my heart for grumman and really enjoyed writing about his scheming--usually it's very calculated but i also like that sometimes it's a little charming :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. temperantia / temperance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nurse Russell’s distinctive footsteps—soft but slightly hurried—approach Roy’s bed.</p><p>“Excuse me, sirs,” she says politely to everyone gathered in the room. “You’re welcome to stay, but if you do, please clear a path and allow me to get closer to Colonel Mustang so I can examine his injuries.”</p><p>All six of the visitors hastily mumble their apologies and quickly scatter around the room to accommodate for the nurse.</p><p>“Colonel Mustang, I’m going to replace the bandages around your hands.” He feels her hand gently rest on his left forearm, something she has taken to doing so as to not startle him. He’s deeply appreciative of how attentive she is to the fact that he doesn’t have visual cues to work off of. She gently unfurls the wrapping on his left hand, taking care to avoid touching the stitches.</p><p>She then warns Roy that she’s going to clean his hand before placing a thin layer of antibiotic ointment along the wound. The washcloth feels cool along his skin, but thankfully it doesn’t hurt, though he can’t say the same for the antibiotic ointment. It stings, and he winces slightly; Nurse Russell places a hand on his leg and pats him gently, reassuring him that this is only temporary. She quickly wraps his hand up in a fresh bandage and tells him she’s moving on to his right hand.</p><p>“Do you need me to walk through the steps again with this hand?” she asks. He politely declines, even though he’s clearly in pain, because he can’t imagine how much more Riza has gone through. <em> If the lieutenant can get through her pain, so can I</em>.</p><p>As the nurse finishes wrapping up his right hand she asks him how he’s feeling, and he shrugs because he’s not sure how to respond. He knows that she means well, but it’s a loaded question that he’s not quite ready to confront yet, so he mumbles that he’s doing alright, all things considered.</p><p>“Sir, I also wanted to let you know that I have some information for you on how to move forward without your vision,” she says. Her voice is gentle and calming, and Roy momentarily forgets that she’s talking about his blindness. “I see that your team has gotten a head start on finding study material for the raised language, which is fantastic. In terms of additional assistance, there are a few different styles of canes we can explore, or we can also look into a dog to assist you.”</p><p>He sighs heavily as he interrupts her. “With all due respect, I’ll be fine, nurse.” He’s not sure where in the room Dr. Knox and Dr. Marcoh are, but he trusts their discretion with the situation. After all, it’s not the first time he’s been able to rely on them.</p><p>“Are you sure, sir?”</p><p>The skepticism in her voice is not lost on Roy, but he politely declines once again, without any explanation whatsoever. After all, his eyesight will be back soon.</p><p>“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll leave the literature here with Lieutenant Hawkeye, in case you change your mind.” Nurse Russell is clearly still doubtful, but she’s also picked up how stubborn the colonel can be, so she excuses herself, reminding him that she’ll be back in the morning for his bandages but that he can always call for her if needed.</p><p>Upon the nurse’s departure, Riza is quick to admonish Roy, reminding him that the nurse was simply trying to be helpful. He feels a small pang of guilt over his dour tone, but he answers that he doesn’t want to waste the nurse’s time by having her provide solutions that he ultimately won’t need.</p><p>“Well, Colonel, how are you going to explain the sudden return of your eyesight to them?” she presses, and he’s not surprised that his astute, thoughtful lieutenant has already walked through this entire scenario in her head, down to the finest details. She’s always been slightly better about planning things out patiently and methodically.</p><p>Falman taps his foot on the ground. “Well, sirs, blindness isn’t always a permanent condition,” he explains. “I have read about temporary blindness and it isn’t that rare. The most common form of temporary blindness is after the flash from a photograph, which we have all experienced, but other forms of trauma can cause more extended periods of blindness. This is a very probable explanation.”</p><p>Riza hums thoughtfully and points out that an explosion was the explanation he gave to the nurses earlier that day. The dots connect in Roy’s head, and he’s grateful that by some stroke of dumb luck, his falsified excuse for his blindness has managed to come in handy. </p><p>“While we’re on the subject... Ross, do you know if anyone else in the military knows about the Colonel’s, uh, condition?” Breda chimes in.</p><p>“Not as far as I know,” Ross answers. “The only news I’ve heard about the military is that Grumman has taken over the fuhrership.”</p><p>Grumman is a smart man—he’ll likely consult with Roy before even hinting at his blindness—but Roy is lukewarm nonetheless. After all, the position in many ways should have been rightfully his for the taking, yet it feels even more out of reach. Still, Riza is steadfastly determined to not view this as a setback, and he knows that she’s right. They’ve overcome far worse.</p><p>“Perfect. Dr. Knox, Dr. Marcoh—since so few people know about the extent of my condition, let’s agree to keep the use of the Stone between us for now,” Roy remarks coolly, expertly masking his own hurt feelings at the mention of Grumman. He turns towards the other side of the room and asks his team, “When is Havoc set to arrive?”</p><p>“He’s arriving tomorrow afternoon, sir,” Breda responds. “I’m going to pick him up from the station at 1400.”</p><p>Roy deliberates for a moment, trying to determine the best course of action. After all, he can easily explain the restoration of his vision as it relates to temporary blindness, but it will be nearly impossible to explain how someone who has been paralyzed from the waist down can suddenly walk freely. He tells the team that they’ll think of a cover story for Havoc’s restored mobility upon his arrival to the hospital.</p><p>“Do you really think that’s wise, Colonel? After all, it’s always better to have a plan,” Riza points out.</p><p>“Havoc is a lot smarter than we give him credit for. I’d like to at least wait until he’s here. I think he deserves that.”</p><p>“As you wish, sir.”</p><p>—</p><p>The next day, Breda departs for the train station ten minutes before 1400. It’s not half an hour later when he returns with Jean Havoc, pushing him beside the colonel’s bed. </p><p>Roy quickly recognizes the squeaky wheels of Havoc’s wheelchair—a sound he hasn’t heard since the last time he met with the former second lieutenant, months before the Promised Day. This was also the last time he’d seen the man, and Roy’s suddenly grateful that he’ll be able to see Havoc again within the next couple of hours. </p><p>“It’s good to see you, Colonel,” Havoc says, after greeting both Riza and Fuery. “Breda told me about why you called me and about your eyesight on the way here. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, sir.” </p><p>Roy shakes his head, assuring him that he’s doing alright and that his condition will be resolved after Dr. Marcoh and Dr. Knox arrive to heal Havoc. Truthfully, Roy still isn’t accustomed to all of the sympathy he’s received from the people around him. He feels undeserving of their good will after all that he has done, but he knows the kindness is genuine and accepts it nonetheless. </p><p>Breda informs Havoc and Roy that the two doctors are set to arrive at the bottom of the hour, and that they should make their final preparations before they arrive. </p><p>Riza asks Havoc if there is anything he needs, and it’s clear to the colonel that she wants Havoc’s transmutation to go off without a hitch, maybe even more than he does. Roy  remembers how concerned she was in the days after the onset of Havoc’s paralysis, how saddened she was by his discharge. She and the former lieutenant had bonded over their shared interest in firearms, and his retirement from the unit left her without someone readily available to discuss the newest issue of a weapons magazine or the release of a new handgun.</p><p>“I was just wondering, Colonel,” Havoc starts, “if there’s any way I would be able to be a part of your unit, if all goes well in just a little while.” He’s apprehensive in tone; it’s likely something that’s been at the forefront of his mind since being presented with the ability to regain his mobility. </p><p>Roy isn’t aware of any case like Havoc’s, where a soldier was honorably discharged due to a medical condition but recommissioned after that condition was cured—certainly never in circumstances such as this. He wants to say <em> Of course you can come back </em>, but Roy is stuck, unable to balance his optimism with the possible reality of Havoc’s situation. </p><p>“We’ll have to speak with General—” Riza pauses and realizes her mistake, “—Fuhrer Grumman about it,” Riza says calmly, covering for the colonel as she always does when he’s unable to form a response. “But I’m sure he will take your efforts on the Promised Day into consideration, as well as your clean record.” </p><p>Roy nods, and finally he finds his words. “I’m confident there will be a place on this team for you, Havoc. The restorations wouldn’t be the same without you.” </p><p>The door creaks open once again. “Sirs, you have visitors,” Nurse Adamson says, and Roy recognizes the thick-heeled boots of Dr. Knox and Dr. Marcoh as they enter his room. </p><p>“You must be Jean Havoc,” Dr. Knox says, and Roy hears the door shut behind him. “Roy has told me a lot about you over the years.” </p><p>Havoc chuckles lightly. “There’s no telling what the Colonel’s said.” </p><p>Dr. Knox introduces himself and his colleague, who briefly explains the healing procedure and the use of Philosopher's Stone. Dr. Marcoh explains that though it won’t take long for the feeling in Havoc’s legs to return—along with his ability to stand and walk—it will likely be difficult to move, since his muscles have atrophied from prolonged lack of use.</p><p>Havoc understands, saying that he is prepared and ready to begin. Roy hears the excitement in his voice as he speaks, and his heart swells in pride of how far Havoc has come since their transfer from East City. After everything the man has been through, he’s finally getting the chance to rise above it all, and Roy couldn’t be happier for him. </p><p>“I suggest you all shield your eyes and cover your mouths,” Dr. Marcoh advises. “There’s going to be a flash of light and likely a bit of smoke.” He directs Dr. Knox to open a window, and Roy feels the shift in the environment as a fresh breeze  rushes into the room. </p><p>Roy takes a deep breath in at the rush of air into the previously stuffy hospital room. He covers his eyes in an effort to avoid any potential damage to his vision. Then the familiar, thick smell of smoke enters his nostrils, and he knows what has been done. </p><p>“Havoc,” Roy calls out as he fans the smoke out of his face. “Can you stand?” Roy listens for the man’s movement, desperately trying to determine if the procedure worked. The colonel hears Havoc gasp as he rustles in the seat of his wheelchair. He extends his hand for Havoc to take. </p><p>The former lieutenant grips his hand, and Roy hears his shoes plant on the floor. </p><p>“Yes, sir,” Havoc answers weakly, but Roy can hear the elation in his voice and the smile on his face. “And I can feel my legs, too.” </p><p>Roy lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Riza reminds Havoc to be careful and not hurt himself, but the relief apparent is in her tone. </p><p>Havoc triumphantly high-fives Breda and Fuery before he sits back down to relax. He’s quick to thank Dr. Marcoh, profusely expressing gratitude for the man’s treatment. Though Roy can’t see his face, he’s positive the man is beaming ear to ear. </p><p>“Sir, I think I’ve got an idea on how we can explain my restored mobility in the records,” Havoc says. “I’m going to need physical therapy to build up my strength again, so maybe we can say that because of my assistance during the Promised Day, I received extensive physical therapy, ultimately regained my ability to walk, and was able to be recommissioned. Do you think that would work?” </p><p>There’s another knock on the door, and the room goes quiet. Roy quickly determines that it isn’t one of the nurses and recognizes Grumman’s coded knock  from his first visit, so he invites the old man to come in. </p><p>“Good afternoon, Mustang,” Grumman greets and shuts the door behind himself. “I see you have visitors.” He pauses in observation of everyone’s celebratory expressions and asks, “Did I miss something?” </p><p>Roy wasn’t anticipating the new fuhrer’s visit and thus isn’t prepared to explain Havoc’s procedure—or his own—so soon. </p><p>“We were just discussing Jean Havoc’s possible recommissioning, sir,” Riza says, and Roy senses that she is caught off guard by the old man’s arrival as well. “Now that his paralysis has been cured, we were hoping he’d be able to return to Colonel Mustang’s unit and aid in the Ishvalan restorations.” </p><p>Grumman hums. “Cured, you say? I’ve never heard of paraplegia being cured in such a short amount of time,” the old man inquires, feigning innocence. “Such disorders aren’t naturally resolved. However, if alchemic measures such as a Philosopher’s Stone are involved, then recovery is almost guaranteed.” </p><p>“You’re right, sir,” Roy says, looking in Havoc’s direction and engaging in Grumman’s game. “Would you object to the use of one?”</p><p>Grumman is quiet for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he finally says. “And I also don’t object to Lieutenant Havoc returning to your unit, just as long as you are fit to lead him.” He pauses. “You <em> will </em> be fit to lead him, won’t you, Mustang?” </p><p>Roy nods. “Yes, sir. Of course I will.” </p><p>“I plan to use my Philosopher’s Stone to heal Colonel Mustang’s eyes,” Dr. Marcoh explains, straightforward in tone. “And I want to ask you, can I be recommissioned to aid in the restructure of Ishval?” </p><p>The old general sighs. “I don’t think I’ve recommissioned so many former members of the military at once.” He laughs lightly and continues. “But Mustang will need a team, and I think it would be wise to have you on it.”</p><p>Roy’s incredibly thankful for Fuhrer Grumman’s approval of both Havoc and Dr. Marcoh’s assignment on his unit. With the two of them joining Riza, Fuery, and Breda on his team, plus the additional support from Grumman, he’s confident the restorations will be successful.</p><p>“Colonel Mustang, are you ready to begin?” Dr. Marcoh asks. </p><p>Roy opens his mouth to speak, but Riza clears her throat and cuts him off, and the room is punctuated by silence save for the sound of the breeze coming from the window. He’s not sure why she won’t let him respond until he hears her rise from her hospital bed. She moves a chair across the room, and the visitors argue that she should stay in her bed; she stubbornly refuses and sets the chair down next to Roy’s bed before taking a seat.</p><p>“I’m right here, Colonel,” she says softly and reassuringly. Her fingers brush up against his left arm as she rests her hand on his bed, and the combination of her touch and his nerves gives him goosebumps. He shivers and she offers to close the window, but he declines, knowing his reaction has nothing to do with the weather.</p><p>Dr. Marcoh warns her not to get too close to Roy, citing the close proximity to smoke and light as potentially dangerous, but she firmly refuses and remains at her commanding officer’s side. The doctor sighs heavily but relents, and he asks once again if Roy is prepared to move forward.</p><p>“I’ve never been more ready,” the colonel answers confidently.</p><p>Throughout the transmutation, Roy feels the bed sheets gain slack under him as Riza grips them nervously. He wants to reach out and calm her, but he knows that doing so will worry her even more, so instead he stays put. It’s difficult for him to keep his eyes closed per Dr. Marcoh’s instructions, because he’s so impatient to look at Riza again; thankfully, the scent of smoke dissipates quickly, indicating the process is complete.</p><p>“Colonel Mustang, please, open your eyes slowly,” Dr. Marcoh instructs. “You lost your sight very recently, so unlike Havoc, your nerves are likely still very functional, but even then, we should be careful.”</p><p>Roy turns his head to the left, in the direction of his lieutenant’s touch and voice. He feels her grip on the bed sheets loosen as he gradually opens his eyes into a squint. Riza lets out a deep exhale; her gaze softens and her eyebrows unfurrow as he fully opens his eyes and nods silently to indicate that he can see her.</p><p>As he keeps his gaze locked on the brilliant, tenacious, beautiful lieutenant sitting right next to him, the sight of her almost brings him to tears, especially since his last visual memory of Riza is from when she was inches from death in his arms. So little time has passed, but so much has changed: she’s really there, all in one piece, and even though she’s in a hospital gown and bandages, she’s more perfect than he could have ever imagined. He hopes he never forgets how she looks in this moment.</p><p>Riza’s fingertips are resting gently on his forearm, but she’s trembling, which prompts him to ask, “How are <em> your </em>injuries, lieutenant?”</p><p>Tears gather in her bright eyes as she assures the colonel that she’s fine. “Please don’t worry about me, sir. Your recovery is most important.”</p><p>“Can you get the curtains, Breda? It’s bright in here,” Roy states matter-of-factly, his eyes still fixated on Riza. </p><p>The lieutenant hastily withdraws her arm and pats her tears away with the back of her hand as she sits up completely straight, reminded of the fact that they aren’t alone in the room. Breda moves across the room to the window, and Roy takes a moment to absorb the group of people gathered in this room.</p><p>Two doctors who have survived the war in Ishval and continue to live with the trauma years later. A man who lost his mobility because of Roy’s ambition. Two soldiers formerly in his unit, who deserted their post to help save the country from a wicked plan. A woman who has dedicated her entire life to atonement and amends.</p><p>And of course, one last visitor.</p><p>Grumman asks how Roy’s eyes are, and the colonel grins as he jokingly observes that the fuhrer looks a little older than he remembered.</p><p>“Watch yourself, Brigadier General Mustang,” warns the old man, but there’s warmth and jest in his voice.</p><p>Roy blinks, unsure if he’s heard correctly. “Excuse me, sir?”</p><p>The old man laughs. “Much as the minutiae of your team fascinates me, the real reason I came was to let you know that you and your team are all set to receive one-rank promotions. It’s going to take a few days, since I’m still going through the transfer of power, but consider it official, regardless.” He offers a salute to the room, adjusts his glasses and smirks as he makes his way out of the door. “Mustang, don’t forget about what I said the other day.”</p><p>The newly promoted general looks to his adjutant, who wears the faintest of smiles as her knuckles graze his forearm, and it takes all his self-restraint to not take her hand in his. He nods once more in acknowledgment of the next phase of their journey together.</p><p>He desperately wants Riza to know how the sight of her visage warms his heart. How her touch electrifies him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, how the sound of her voice calms all his worries and anxieties. How her temperance and precision drive him to be better every moment.</p><p>But Roy knows that he can’t tell her this in a room of other people, even people he knows they can trust. So instead, he begins giving orders to his team, scolding himself for even considering jeopardizing the progress he and Riza have made.</p><p>In spite of all the sacrifices he’s made—and will continue to make—in his own life, he’s certain the future of Amestris is worth it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>vade: i got the chance to write with grumman and man i truly do love writing with his character, his speech pattern is so unique and i have a time writing with him. also priscilla pointed out that i hadn’t written fuery into my section and i nearly lost it that i forgot about the sweet boy, but thankfully, he made it in! i hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, thank you all for the continued support with this fic!</p><p>priscilla: writing the scene where roy regains his vision was so enjoyable for me bc i imagined the same tenderness from them as the scene in brotherhood where he tells riza he lost his vision. i just love these two so so much. can't imagine being a visitor in that room tho, i'd definitely feel like i was intruding on a super intimate moment lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. humilitas / humility</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After another week and a half in the hospital and a month to adequately recover and prepare, Team Mustang departs for Ishval on July 17, 1915. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train ride to Ishval is longer than Roy remembers. Maybe it’s because so much time has passed since the last time he traveled to the region, or that he is overcome with anxiety and apprehensiveness to begin the restorations. While the distance hasn’t changed in the years since the Ishvalan conflict, so much else in his life has changed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy can’t help but gaze at his lieutenant—</span>
  <em>
    <span>no, she’s a captain now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminds himself—and take in the beautiful sight that she is, to replace every negative, looming image of her near-demise in his memories. His eyes are fixed on her as he continues to sort through nearly a decade of plans that he has kept stored away in his head until now. </span>
</p><p><span>The rest of his unit reminisces about their time at Eastern Command, and Roy sees that the train is coming closer to the station by the view of the desert in the distance. His hands tremble as he flips through pages of an official logbook gifted to him by Grumman, its purpose to record the progress of the restructure of Ishval from the beginning to the end for the military records.</span> <span>This leads Havoc to ask if Roy’s alright, and the general is quick to blame his struggle turning from one page to another on his injuries. </span></p><p>
  <span>While the first lieutenant accepts this plausible and moderately accurate explanation, it is not the whole truth. Roy’s unprepared to step back into what was hell on Earth for him, to relive those tainted memories of the region he burned to near nothingness. He’s worried that his apprehension and anxieties will render him useless, unable to lead his team down the unpredictable path of restoration. And worst of all, Roy is immensely fearful that his incompetence will come to a head, that his own inadequacy will ultimately result in the downfall of their operation before it even begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, we’ve arrived,” Riza says as the train slows to a halt. She stands from her seat and takes their suitcases from the overhead compartment, carrying them in the crux of her elbows. She gives Black Hayate the command to follow behind her and looks at the general. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy places the logbook back in his briefcase, quickly regaining his composure. He insists on carrying his own luggage and takes his bag from her arm, reminding her that she was just discharged from the hospital and shouldn’t be carrying both of their belongings when he is perfectly capable of doing so himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The unit immediately feels the effects of the region’s dry, desert heat as they exit the train car, and Roy already sees the sweat forming on their foreheads. The Womob station is noticeably run-down, demonstrated by its loose roof shingles and sun-bleached wooden exterior. It has likely gone without regular maintenance since sometime before the war, and Roy makes a mental note to inform his adjutant about subsidizing funds to renovate the station. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to calling you a warrant officer,” Havoc says to Fuery as they step onto the near indistinguishable stone pathway, brushing off the sand from their boots as they walk. “And Breda and I being first lieutenants, it’s going to take some getting used to. But I do like this added star.” He flashes a confident smile to Breda and Fuery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breda admires the two stars on his and Havoc’s epaulette, beaming and celebrating with the two men as they continue forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to make a bet on how long they’ll last in this heat?” Roy jests, breaking the silence between him and Riza. He notices that she’s deep in thought, walking with a blank stare until she registers his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza blinks and looks at the brigadier general, and a small smile spreads across her lips. “I think they’ll adjust quickly,” she responds. “They might not be used to desert heat, but Eastern summers were always brutal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy remembers the summers he spent with Riza in her small hometown outside of East City, when he was her father’s apprentice. Before the military, before Ishval. After dinner, they would skip stones and dip their feet in the lake behind her house to find some relief from the heat until the sun went down, when her father was so engrossed in his studies that he didn’t notice their absence. But Roy reminds himself that there are no ponds in Ishval, and he and Riza don’t have the time to skip stones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawkeye,” Roy starts and swallows thickly, meeting her eyes. “Are you nervous?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza glances at the other men in their unit. “Yes,” she admits. “I’m very nervous. There is not a part of me that doesn’t want to be here and for this to go well, but it’s been so long, Colonel—” Riza shakes her head at her mistake “—General. It’s not the heat that bothers me, it’s...” She trails off, uncharacteristically unable to complete her sentence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The memories,” Roy finishes and lets out a heavy sigh. “I understand. But that’s why we’re here, to right our wrongs in any way we can.” He knows that Hawkeye won’t let her insecurities get the better of her, and for that very reason, he won’t let his own take the better part of his conscience and jeopardize their one mission. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they continue down the pathway, Roy surveys the deterioration of the many dilapidated homes. Their structural integrity is so compromised it looks as though if he shouted too loud, the buildings would come crumbling down, and he wishes he could have pursued the effort to restore Ishval sooner. He knows it would not have been possible under Bradley’s oppressive rule, but Roy’s ashamed to have let the Ishvalans live in the ruins and desolate remains of their sacred land for almost a decade after the end of the war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy’s focus on his surroundings is broken by what he recognizes to be the whine of a dog, and he looks at Riza, who, by the concerned expression on her face, seems to have heard the noise too. Their eyes zone in on Black Hayate, who appears fine and unbothered by the conditions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weak, pitiful whine continues and Roy stops, trying to determine the location of the dog’s wail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s coming from our left, sir,” Riza says, pointing to a worn-down house just off of the path to the center of the area. She then directs her finger at Hayate’s nose before setting her belongings on the ground. “Keep watch, Hayate. We’ll be back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy sets down his luggage and veers off the path, following the sound of growing whine into the house. The entry way is simply a gaping hole in the brickwork, and he briefly wonders if it was the work of another State Alchemist from all those years ago. He looks around what appears to once have been a small living area, and all that is left of the room is an eroded leather sofa, a crumbling wooden table, and two chairs. The wooden floors are covered in sand blown in by the wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza quickly traces the whine to behind the sofa and kneels to the floor. She looks at Roy with widened eyes, and she raises from the floor with a trembling white dog cradled in her arms. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What should we do with her, sir?” Riza asks as she comes from behind the couch, her eyes filled with concern for the animal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy knows he can’t just leave the dog in the dangerous conditions of an abandoned Ishvalan home, and he would never be able to say no to Riza. She loves animals—especially dogs—even more than he does. “Let’s get her to the camp,” he says and clears the rubble out of the walkway for Riza to safely carry the dog out of the house. He then tells Riza to find the others, and that he will meet her at their designated area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy gathers their belongings from the path and sends Hayate to follow Riza, and the loyal pup rushes to her side. The weight of their luggage slows him down significantly, but he soon catches up with the captain and follows her into a red metal building. He remembers her informing him that a red metal building would be their main post and living quarters for their time in Ishval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need a bowl of water and a bowl of dog food,” Riza calls out, pointing to Fuery as she sits on the floor with the dog in her arms. “There’s some of Hayate’s in my bag she can have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hayate walks up to the canine and briefly sniffs her white coat before laying down at Riza’s feet, his eyes seemingly fixated on the stray. He looks up at Riza and tilts his head, as if he’s asking her what she’s going to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy helps fix a bowl of food while Fuery gathers a pan of water, and they set it down at Riza’s side. He helps Riza lower the dog to the floor, setting her in front of the water and dog food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll also need this,” says a gravely, familiar-sounding voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general shifts his attention from Riza and the pup to look up, and he almost doesn’t believe his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scar?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ishvalan man—his former foe—hands him a thick towel and smiles. “Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Roy says and takes the towel from Scar. He quickly hands it to Riza and helps her place the dog on the towel before standing from the floor. He notices that Scar’s hair has slightly grown since he last saw him, and instead of a khaki trench coat and black pants, the man is wearing a purple robe with a red and black striped sash—traditional Ishvalan clothing. “How did you learn about the restorations?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar explains that Major General Olivier Armstrong tended to him after the Promised Day, utilizing medical assistance coupled with his alkahestry—which Roy is now </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to learn more about—to speed up his recovery. He also informs the general of Major Miles’s request for his assistance in the restructure of Ishval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve gathered the remaining Ishvalan families in this region,” Scar adds. “However, there are still slums scattered across Eastern Amestris. Major Miles and I are working to gather the total number of the remaining population.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, the aforementioned major enters their conversation, after walking away from the groups of individual Ishalvan families. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brigadier General,” Miles says and greets Roy with a salute. “It’s an honor to be working with someone as determined as you are to reconstruct Ishval.” He then brings his other hand from behind his back and gives a letter to Roy. “From Major General Armstrong. She asked for you to open it as soon as I gave it to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods and examines the letter, recognizing the stamp of the Armstrong family insignia that seals the letter. He thanks the major and breaks the seal, taking out the folded paper from inside the envelope. The letter reads: </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Brigadier General Mustang, </span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>You know I don’t take requests of my subordinates lightly, but I believe what you want to complete in Ishval is right. Major Miles will be a valuable asset to your plans and he will report to me weekly about the progress of the restorations. I trust his judgement, and if he sees that things are proceeding inadequately, there will be consequences. Unlike most petty tasks that come out of Central, this is not something you can pass to another unit if you make a mistake. If you fuck up, even once, I will see to your death myself.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Roy suppresses a smirk at her characteristic bluntness, but he’s flattered to have her support. “Always such inspiring words from the General,” he says sarcastically as he places the letter back in the envelope. He tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket and thanks Major Miles for delivering it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar briefly breaks away to speak with an elderly Ishvalan man, who is wearing the same black and red striped sash as he is. He then brings the man back to the conversation and introduces him as his master, one of the oldest remaining Ishvalans priests in the region.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Ishvalans have suffered in destitution and poverty for nearly a decade,” the old man begins, looking between Roy and Miles as he speaks. “We have all prayed long and hard to return to our land and prosper as a unified people once again. And I believe, with the help of the military, we will return Ishval to what Ishvala intended it to be, and that our Holy Land will flourish. The cycle of vengeance, death, and destruction will be broken.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is suddenly overwhelmed with humility. This is much wider than any personal desire for atonement. The lives of a dying race are at stake, and Roy cannot afford to fail them. He destroyed these people’s lives once, and now he must rebuild them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Initially, Team Mustang’s priorities don’t align with Major Miles’ and Scar’s whatsoever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy wants to rebuild infrastructure before populating the area. He argues that there must be something for the Ishvalans to return to besides dust and ruins. It’s important to him that everything be perfect by the time they arrive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Major Miles and Scar want the Ishvalans to set up camp right away, even before anything is built or restored. They argue that it’s important for the Ishvalans to see the work at hand, and to be able to consult if things aren’t being done to their specifications.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s ridiculous,” Roy says to Riza, as the two of them take a break in their planning session to feed the two dogs. “Why would they want to come live here in tents, when they could just wait until everything is ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter if it’s in ruins, because it’s their true home,” Riza answers as she kneels to pet Black Hayate. “Besides, it’s a show of good faith to give them something they want. They need to know we’re listening. It’s all they’ve ever wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows she’s right—as she always is—so the very next day, Roy gives the order to allow the Ishvalans to populate the area immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the Ishvalans begin making their temporary setups, Roy realizes there’s a roadblock to his revitalization plans. He wants to unearth the railroad to Xing, which cuts through Ishval and has been abandoned in the sand for many years. But the railroad’s accessibility is predicated on diplomatic relations with the country in the east, and he can’t move forward without the approval of the Xingese government, so he makes a call to Fuhrer Grumman to discuss the idea of opening up negotiations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brigadier General Mustang, I’ve given you complete jurisdiction over the Ishvalan region and all decisions relating to the revival,” says Fuhrer Grumman matter-of-factly. “You don’t need to call me for approval on every single one of these decisions. It’s why I promoted you. Besides, you already know the Emperor of Xing. If you want to be Fuhrer one day, you should be comfortable speaking with other nations on our behalf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hangs up without another word, and Roy is astounded at the authority bestowed upon him, so he immediately drafts a letter to Emperor Ling Yao and has it delivered by Breda, who is already familiar with the desert trek.</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Emperor Yao,</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>First, thank you for your assistance in saving the nation of Amestris from utter catastrophe. I hear that all is well in the east and that you have ascended to the throne. Our nation aims to ensure peaceful, mutually favorable relations with the nation of Xing; we kindly request your presence on August 23 in the Ishvalan region of Daliha, to negotiate trade and travel terms between our great nations. We will provide appropriate accommodations befitting your royal party, but should you have any concerns or hesitations, or have specific needs, please let us know before your arrival and we will do our best to ensure your comfort. Otherwise, we look forward to your arrival.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Yours faithfully,</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Brigadier General Roy Mustang</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Two weeks and one day later, Breda arrives back in Daliha. He’s so exhausted that he nearly passes out giving Roy the Xingese response, so the general orders him on strict bed rest for the next few days as he opens up the letter.</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Brigadier General Mustang,</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>We will be there, and we trust that you will properly care for our entourage. I look forward to seeing you soon.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Emperor Yao</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>PS: Lan Fan and I have large appetites. Prepare accordingly.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days anticipating the Xingese party turn into weeks. The weeks feel so much longer in Ishval, and the desert begins to take its toll on the two war veterans in progressively larger ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It starts with the return of Roy’s nightmares. For years, while stationed at Eastern Command after the war, his dreams were plagued with the sounds of Ishvalan children screaming for mercy and the subsequent snap of his fingers against his ignition cloth. He was haunted and endlessly hounded by the vision of red Ishvalan eyes following him no matter where he went. Those images and sounds went away with time, if only because they were replaced by nightmares of his inability to save Maes Hughes from death; but now, being in the place where everything went wrong for him has brought those intrusive, deeply painful memories of the war back to the forefront of his psyche.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These nightmares are manageable because they happen in his sleep, when he is by himself and therefore not interacting with others. But each minute, each hour, each day—despondency and guilt eat away at his facade of composure, and it feels like he might break at any moment as the torment starts seeping into every other facet of his life. When he begins to meet with survivors in an attempt to repair his relationship to this land, the accented Amestrian coming from the mouths of the people of Ishval brings him back to the vision of older siblings clutching the rest of the family, awaiting their shared fate as smoke, ash, and rotting flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s difficult for him to maintain conversations with Ishvalans in the face of this trauma, but he reminds himself: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Their families have died at my hands, yet they’re still able to talk to me. They deserve a better me. They deserve to heal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually his confident, level headed captain is able to smooth over situations like this; after all, she’s the most compassionate, humble person he knows. These days, however, she begins to develop bags under her eyes—the same ones Roy saw in this desert all those years ago, back when she was still just Cadet Hawkeye. Her trauma also manifests itself in detachment from Black Hayate, to the point where something as simple as the sound of his tail thumping is enough to startle her. Whereas before the unit’s antics and joking would make her chuckle, she now has little patience for anything beyond the scope of work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gratefully the rest of the unit chalks up Riza’s irritability to her perfectionism, her desire to ensure the flawless restoration of Ishval. But no one else knows what it was like to be part of the Ishvalan Civil War except Roy, who is also suffering, albeit in a different way. Seeing her in clear pain only adds to his own anguish; he wants to put a hand on her shoulder, or offer an embrace, or tell her that the circumstances in the desert are different this time around—something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>that might provide solace and comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows firsthand that those gestures, while well-intended, do very little to confront the source of her trauma. He doesn’t take this personally; if she offered to do any of the same, the temporary comfort would fail to address the deep wounds and burns caused by the war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That said, they both know that the only way is through, so in spite of all the agony and unresolved trauma, they handle this the way they know best: in pained silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emperor Ling Yao arrives with much less pomp and circumstance than Roy would have expected. Rather than an entire royal party, he shows up on camelback with only two people: an adviser with whom Roy is not familiar, and a person in a mask who Roy recognizes as Ling’s young bodyguard Lan Fan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to see you in daylight, Roy Mustang,” Ling says, beaming. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy bows his head awkwardly and apologizes, explaining that he doesn’t have much experience with foreign relations. Thankfully, Riza clears her throat and bows her head a bit more gracefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Royal Highness,” she says, smoothing the situation over, “we’ve prepared a set of sleeping quarters for you nearby. Since we’re in the process of restoring this region, our amenities are unfortunately a bit lackluster, but we’ve provided as much as we can to ensure your comfort and safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breda, Havoc, Fuery, and Miles shuffle in to tend to the Xingese group’s camels and retrieve their luggage while Riza continues to make small talk—</span>
  <em>
    <span>how was your trip? Did you encounter any difficulties? How are things in Xing?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roy is beaming with pride in her ability to converse with just about anyone, so much that his cheeks begin to hurt. But one question in particular piques his interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is the little princess, sir?” Riza asks Ling. “Mei Chang, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bodyguard removes her mask, grinning at Ling. The adviser rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s always causing trouble. Lan Fan and I like it that way, though. It keeps us on our toes,” the emperor explains with a chuckle. “We’re taking good care of her and the rest of her clan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad. She’s sweet, and very sharp,” Riza responds with a smile. “Now, I’m sure you’re quite hungry from your voyage, so we’d like to invite you to rest and have a nice meal. The Ishvalan community here is still small, but they’re very proud and would be honored to host the Emperor of Xing and his entourage. We’ve advised them of your appetites and they’re excited to share their spread of food with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lan Fan gives Riza a puzzled look. “Aren’t you two going to join us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The captain shakes her head. “Not today. We’d like you to get familiar with the people of Ishval, since they’re the ones you’ll interact with most if we’re able to reach an agreement on trade and travel,” she explains. “You’ll find that they’re some of the kindest people you will ever meet in this country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bodyguard nods. “If they’re any bit as a kind as you and your team, I’m confident we’ll be in good hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, negotiations begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy and Riza sit at one side of the table, flanked by Scar, who is there to represent Ishvalan interests. On the other side are Ling and his economic adviser, while Lan Fan stands watch by the tent entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy opens by asking to restore the Xing-Amestris railway, explaining that such a resource could be utilized both as a trade route and also as a means of travel. Ling consults his adviser in Xingese and is agreeable to the idea, but is worried about which portions their respective nations will be responsible for restoring. He reminds Roy that the majority of the railroad is in parts of the desert that neither of their nations have a claim to, which complicates the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amestris will restore everything,” Roy assures him. “The railroad is unoperational solely because of our abandonment and our failure to maintain diplomatic relations, so we will carry that responsibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Ling and his advisor appear satisfied with this answer, so Roy moves on to the next portion of their negotiations: trade and travel. At first the general wants to offer some small, cheap exports from Amestris, but he remembers a piece of advice that Riza shared with him that evening as she scolded him for his lack of decorum: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Make them feel like you are giving a lot, and they will offer something later in an attempt to compensate. </span>
  </em>
  <span>(She attributes her acumen to a foreign relations elective from the academy, and Roy makes a note to chat with Grumman about making this class mandatory.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eventually settle on tea and soybeans from Xing, and steel and iron from Amestris. “As a sign of good faith, and a desire for a more prosperous relationship than in years past,” Roy explains, taking Riza’s advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ling nods. “I like your style, Brigadier General Mustang.” He scratches his head. “I suppose, if you’re going to be that generous with your trade, we’d be open to fairly relaxed travel among our nations.” The emperor proceeds to outline his vision: the railroad will facilitate both trade and travel, but the process will be gradual, with Daliha operating as the only stop for Xingese travelers and Shenzhen operating as the only stop for Amestrian travelers. If everything operates to both countries’ satisfaction, then—and only then—will they open up the remainder of their existing train networks to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy has to actively fight the smile developing along the corners of his mouth at his captain’s now-correct prediction. Instead, he agrees to everything Ling mentions, but Scar makes one request to both Roy and Ling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The station in Daliha should be fully operated by Ishvalans. This is our land, and we deserve to be able to work on it,” Scar states. “We have also been harmed by military personnel for far too long. The wounds run deep. Therefore, neither the Daliha nor the Shenzhen stations will have any military personnel on site. I understand that issues may arise, so personnel may remain in proximity, but everyone must feel free to travel without the threat of military abuse and violence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ling’s adviser frowns, but the emperor shrugs and mumbles something to him in Xingese before agreeing, much to the adviser’s visible displeasure. Roy nods slowly, fighting another flashback of the war and reminding himself that he really is doing his best to make things right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar looks at Roy thoughtfully. “On behalf of the people of Ishval, all terms are agreeable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then on behalf of the nation of Amestris, let us consider this matter closed,” Roy states. A pleased look emerges on his face as he looks to first the Ishvalan man, then the Xingese entourage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza explains that she will draft a document outlining the key terms they’ve discussed, and have it available for comments and approval the next day. In the meantime, though, she offers to show them the current state of the railroad, so the Xingese government knows what the Amestrian military is working with on their behalf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ling agrees, and as Riza is escorting the three Xingese representatives from the tent, he calls out, “Brigadier General Mustang, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy sighs heavily in relief and motions to drink from his coffee cup, excited for a break, when Major Miles comes in the tent with an envelope in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve received a dispatch from Fuhrer Grumman,” Miles explains. The desert is too warm for his snow goggles, so Roy can see in his face that he is flustered and warm, as if he’s just run miles in the desert. “The Fuhrer sent someone from Central to hand deliver this message, and I was instructed to bring it to you immediately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually the general can’t bring himself to care about these communications. They’re typically limited to goings-on in Central, and therefore aren’t at all relevant to the Ishvalan revitalization campaign. But the fact that Grumman has instructed for hand delivery is unusual, so Roy cocks his head to the left slightly, just enough to indicate casual interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” he asks, taking the envelope from Miles and opening it. He reads it aloud.</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Executive Order 3204</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>By order of Fuhrer Charles Eugene Grumman, Executive Order 3009 expressly outlawing fraternization among chains of command has been repealed effective immediately.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Soldiers continue to be discouraged from engaging in romantic and/or sexual relations with direct superiors, direct subordinates, or those otherwise in their direct chain of command.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Should relations develop among soldiers within these parameters, the higher ranking of the officers must complete an Affiliation Report, which outlines instructions and further required procedures. This document may be obtained from the Office of the Fuhrer.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>“That’s interesting,” Miles notes with a flat affect. “I wonder why the Fuhrer thought it so important for you to get this message.” His uncovered eyes, however, peer at Roy as if he knows exactly why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general notices a piece of scrap paper clumsily taped to the back and reads it to himself, immediately recognizing the handwriting.</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Mustang,</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I was married at 32. It’s not that far off. Think about it.<br/>
</span>
    </em>
    <em>
      <span>Don’t leave your Queen open.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>CEG</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Roy feels color rise to his cheeks as he immediately removes the piece of paper from the official proclamation, using his left hand to set the scrap on fire hurriedly. Miles gives him a confused look but fortunately, the major doesn’t say a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, Scar scratches the stubble growing along his jawline and laughs as he rises from his seat. “Matters of the Amestrian military are not part of my expertise, nor are they of any interest to me,” he scoffs, making his way towards the tent’s opening. “But, Roy Mustang, I wonder if this order will change things between you and that adjutant of yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And just what do you mean by that, Scar?” the general asks defensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re quite fond of her,” Scar points out matter-of-factly. “And she’s always making sure you don’t do anything rash. In Ishvalan tradition, those are some of the signs of a suitable match.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Scar and Miles exit the tent chuckling together, leaving Roy alone with his face buried in his hands, exhausted by both the negotiations and everyone’s unsolicited opinions about his personal life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After two years of rigorous, onsite restorations, Ishval is near unrecognizable, if not for the desert climate. In the place of scattered, dilapidated buildings and worn tents, there are furnished, structurally-sound homes that make up newly-named streets. The centers of town are filled with marketplaces, budding businesses,  churches, hospitals, and municipal buildings. Each region also has its own school, with primary, secondary, and post-secondary classes, and by the time the restorations are considered complete by the Ishvalan council, the new semester is ready to begin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the metal building used as a base for the operations has been renovated into a community center, now used for meetings and gatherings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Roy operated in the East, Grumman has also enacted policy changes throughout Amestris. Basic language accommodations such as translated signs are now offered in all major train stations. Classes at the military academy have also been amended: the foreign relations class is now required of all cadets, and the curriculum of the historical enemies class has been altered to include accurate information about Ishval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But educational reform isn’t limited to just the military academy. Along with the help of other Ishvalans, Scar and Major Miles have developed the curriculum for an elective Ishvalan language and culture course for all Amestrian public schools. The course is currently in trial in Eastern school districts and will be ready for full release into the academic course selection the following year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, the opening of new steel and iron mills has increased trade output, thereby leading to a significant decrease in unemployment rates across the country. This uptick in economic growth has put Amestris at one of its most financially stable and prosperous points in its history. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that his part in the Ishvalan restoration is complete, Roy is filled with a deep sense of relief. He has long wanted to return to Central and sleep in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed, so he resists napping on the train ride back home. He also doesn’t want to risk having a nightmare for all of his subordinates to see, so instead the general asks for another cup of coffee from the refreshments car to help him stay awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even more than his own eagerness to return home, Roy looks forward to seeing Riza well-rested and back to her usual self. He longs to see her shoulders relax and her lips curve into a small smile, a glint of peace in her eyes. Her hair has grown during their time in Ishval, well past the length she’s ever worn it; he often sees her fiddle with the strands before returning her hair to the tight clip at the back of her head with a tired sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even in the traumatic conditions of the Ishvalan desert, the two of them have found comfort in raising the stray pup, who Roy decided to name Blanco, a derivative of the Ishvalan word for white. (They later learned that Blanco is typically a male name, and Riza chided the general for not consulting Major Miles before she trained the female dog to respond to the name. Roy defended himself, saying he wasn’t looking to give Major General Armstrong another reason to tease him.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blanco sits in the seat next to Roy on the train, her head resting in his lap. Her eyes are on Hayate, who’s currently lying curled in the seat between Roy and Riza. Roy strokes the white fur of her head while he and Riza finish the official reports of their restorations for the military records. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As soon as we get to Central, you need to sign these papers, sir,” Riza says, placing the documents back into their folder. “Also, I’m going to stop by Fuhrer Grumman’s office before I go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy checks his watch. He notes the current time—</span>
  <em>
    <span>1630</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and reminds her that Central Command will likely be shut down by the time they arrive, since today is also Friday. He cites how often they were the ones to lock up for the weekend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And besides,” Roy says, “you need to go home and rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza shakes her head. “I’ve got all weekend to do that, sir.” She then informs him that he also needs to sign off on the completion of his restoration log. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Roy grumbles, shifting his gaze to the sleeping pup in his lap. “This one has it easy.” He gently scratches the fur behind her ears and says, “Don’t you, Blanco?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza chuckles. “She may not have as much work as you do, but Second Lieutenant Hayate keeps her on her heels.” Hayate raises his nose at the mention of his name but quickly returns his head to Riza’s lap when she doesn’t give him a command. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the train travels closer to Central City, Roy notes the shift in terrain from the countryside to the city. He reflects on their initial trip to Ishval, how apprehensive he was to begin the restorations. Now that everything is considered complete, the general doesn’t know where to go from here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy knows he will return to his office job in Central, with the unit under his command and Riza by his side. But in two years of changes across the grand scale of Amestris, not much has shifted between him and his captain. While the anti-fraternization laws have been eased, it still feels tainted and wrong to pursue a relationship with Riza, as if he’s sneaking behind his master’s back to court his daughter, or manipulating his subordinate to bend to his will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy loves Riza with his entire being, and he wants nothing more than for her to be happy and at peace. He also wants her to be happy with him, to hold her tight against his chest and shower her in years of pent-up affection. And maybe someday he will, but he wants Riza to be the one to make that choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just past 1700 when the train pulls into Central Station. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that who I think it is?” Havoc jumps from his seat. He rushes to find the exit of the train car while Breda and Fuery gather their things and follow him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy looks at his adjutant and stands from his seat. “Who did he see?” he asks as he attaches a leash to Blanco’s collar and slings his luggage over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza simply smirks and signals for Hayate to come. She walks behind Roy as they exit the train and step off onto the platform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy looks in Havoc’s direction and sees the lieutenant, whose arms are wrapped around a brown-haired woman. He initially can’t make out the person’s identity until Havoc pulls away, and he recognizes her as Rebecca Catalina. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She and Havoc have been writing letters to each other since he left,” Riza explains. “So we wanted to surprise him.” She smiles as they walk over to the couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Havoc is beaming, and Roy hasn’t seen his smile this wide since he regained his mobility in the hospital. He presses another kiss to Rebecca’s cheek before thanking Riza for arranging their meetup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so good to finally see you, Riza!” Rebecca remarks and slings her arms around her friend. She explains that she transferred to Central under Fuhrer Grumman has been working as his assistant for the past two years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza congratulates her on the promotion and tells Rebecca that it will be nice to work in the same building again once she settles back at Central Command. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy’s glad to see Riza and Rebecca reunite. He knows how much Riza cherishes her friendship with Rebecca, and the last two years without any communication outside of letters must have taken a toll on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to get Jean settled in,” Rebecca says, “But we need to go out together soon.” She squeezes Riza’s hand and hugs the woman again. “You need to get some rest tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza smiles and promises that she will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better!” Rebecca says as she and Havoc bid them farewell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy dismisses Fuery and Breda and uses the telephone at the train station to call a taxi for both he and Riza. While waiting for their vehicles to arrive, he signs off on the completion of his logbook and all of the official reports. The general asks Riza if she still plans on going by Central Command now that he’s finished all of the appropriate paperwork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza shakes her head. “No, sir,” she says and places the folders back in her bag. “I need to go home and unpack, and I think Grumman would tell me the same thing you and Rebecca have if I even tried to set foot in his office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know he would.” Roy laughs lightly. “He’d kick us out if we stayed too long on a Friday back in the East.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza sighs and relaxes against the back of the bench. She looks at Roy and reminds him to pick up his mail from the post office before it closes for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Roy comments. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two years of mail isn’t going to sort itself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. The general thanks her for the reminder, and they sit in silence until the first cab comes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza stands to help the general move all of his things into the car, but Roy insists that she take this cab. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can wait,” Roy says as he takes her luggage from her shoulder and places it in the backseat of the car. “Go home, Hawkeye. That’s an order.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza reluctantly obliges and orders Hayate to enter the vehicle. He complies, and she asks the general if there’s anything else he needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me when you get home,” Roy says softly, not even attempting to mask the concern in his voice. He only wants her and Hayate to return home safely so they can rest for the remainder of the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza smiles. “Yes, sir,” she replies and steps into the cab. She goes to shut the door but stops and adds an equally soft, “Good night, General.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words make Roy’s heart flutter, and he responds, “Good night, Captain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the next cab comes and carries him home, Roy enters and sets a cardboard box full of mail on his kitchen counter with a heavy exhale. Within a minute, he receives the expected phone call from Riza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call is brief, and Riza simply informs him that she and Hayate made it to her apartment safely. She also shares the name of the food that they feed Blanco, reminding the general to pick it up from the pet store sometime tomorrow. Roy assures her that he will and Riza tells him that she needs to unpack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general retires to his bedroom for the night and settles into his bed. Blanco lays at Roy’s feet, in the same spot where she slept during their time in Ishval. A wave of exhaustion rushes over him as he shuts his eyes, and he thinks of Riza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy takes comfort in knowing that she’s home and will finally get to rest without the burden of rebuilding a nation on her shoulders. It may take more than one night, but he knows she will be back to herself once again. With this assurance, he quickly falls asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only takes the unit a couple of days to settle back in at Central, but it takes Roy a full week to sort through all of his mail. He’s now incredibly thankful that his electric bill is set up to automatically deduct funds from his account each month. He reaches his final stretch of letters on a Thursday evening, and he invites Riza over to aid in the final stack on his coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza splits the stack in half and gives Roy a section. “We’ll get it done quicker this way, sir,” she says and begins sorting the letters by type. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for helping me with this, by the way,” Roy says and tears open a bank statement. “I know this is above your paygrade, but I fall asleep almost everytime I try to do anything with all of this.” He briefly examines the information and places the page back in the envelope before setting it back in the cardboard box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza throws away an almost two-year old brochure and looks at the general. “Don’t worry about it, sir,” she says. “It gives Hayate and Blanco a chance to see each other more.” They both look at the two pups, who are sleeping next to one another on the circle rug underneath the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy chunks a handful of junk mail into his garbage can. “They are quite fond of each other,” he says. He looks back down at the pile beside him and reaches for the letter on top—a small postcard that pictures Xingese architecture, dated July 16th, 1915. He flips the card over, and it simply reads: </span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Dear Roy-boy, </span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I’m enjoying my time away in Xing.<br/>
</span>
    </em>
    <em>
      <span>You should bring Elizabeth here sometime.<br/>
</span>
    </em>
    <em>
      <span>I think she would love it.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Aunt Chris</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>Roy feels heat rush to his cheeks, but the idea of a trip to Xing is extremely tempting. He remembers telling Riza of his plans to go to Xing upon completion of the restorations; now that they are, there isn’t anything stopping him. He wants to learn more about alkahestry and his unexplored lineage, and all of this information can be found in that eastern nation across the desert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawkeye,” Roy starts, “let’s go to Xing.” He looks at the captain, and she nearly drops the envelopes in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza’s eyes go wide. “You can’t be serious, sir,” she deadpans as she places her letters down on the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promised you that I would take away your pain,” Roy continues and shifts in his seat to meet Riza’s eyes. “They have healing alchemy in Xing—alkahestry. You remember Mei Chang—she offered to teach me. I want to learn about it, and I want to heal the scars on your back and neck.” When she hesitates to answer, he adds, “And besides, we need to test out the railway and make sure there aren’t any issues.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza pauses for a moment as she ponders his proposal. Her eyes are filled with consideration and intrigue, and she finally responds, “Alright. We can arrange the dates for vacation leave with Fuhrer Grumman tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy beams. “You are going to leave Xing in the least amount of pain possible, Hawkeye,” he says, unwaveringly certain in his words. “I promise you that.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>vade: aah y’all this chapter is even longer than chapter 2 and we covered so much ground. two years of ishvalan restoration is hell not only to experience but to write. but we’re going to xing in the next chapter, the whole point of the fic! i’m excited, and i hope you are too :)</p><p>priscilla: i started college as a political science major but i changed my major, and this is why 😂</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. castitas / chastity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks later, on a quiet Saturday morning, there’s a knock on Roy’s front door.</p><p>Blanco barks, and Roy rises from his couch to answer. He opens the door, and standing on the other side are Riza and Black Hayate.</p><p>“Good morning, sir,” she greets, offering a firm salute despite her civilian clothing. Hayate runs into the apartment and tackles Blanco; the two dogs wrestle playfully, and the two soldiers laugh in admiration.</p><p>The weather isn’t particularly cold, but the hairs on Roy’s arms stand up in anticipation of what’s to come: today is the day they leave for Xing. Even though this trip was his suggestion and his adjutant has never planned a trip that has gone haywire, he’s still anxious about venturing to the other side of the desert.</p><p>It isn’t just related to his work as a dog of the military, either; Roy has never identified as anything more than an Amestrian, so he’s uncertain what will happen when he sets a foot in a place where he technically has roots but has never felt a connection to or otherwise known.</p><p>Riza wordlessly leans down to pick up the luggage at the front door. Roy attempts to stop her, but she shakes her head and smiles. “Hayate, Blanco, let’s go.”</p><p>The dogs rush out of the apartment, but Roy pauses briefly to observe Riza more closely. Her hair is back to the closely cropped cut that he’s been accustomed to for most of the time they’ve known each other. On the one hand, the way she grew her hair out over the past few years was a charming change of pace; on the other hand, this style is familiar, and he sympathized with her discomfort every time she fidgeted with it while in Ishval, so he’s glad that this cut is able to bring some relief.</p><p>“Your hair.” His hand reaches to brush the fringe away from her eyes, but he catches himself and hastily fiddles around in his pocket for his keys to lock the door behind him instead.</p><p>She shrugs nonchalantly at him; he’s unable to determine whether she politely turned a blind eye at his gesture or if she genuinely failed to notice it. “Oh. It was bothering me,” she answers. “Do you not like it?”</p><p>It takes him by surprise that she would ask his opinion on something as seemingly mundane as a haircut. After all, she’s always taken charge of her life and made her own choices, for better or for worse. She constantly reminds him, both in her words and in her deeds, that she’s in full control of her actions as a soldier. A haircut is miniscule, compared to all the other choices she’s made.</p><p>“It’s nice. Reminds me of when we were younger,” he mumbles as heat rises to his cheeks. It’s true: this is the Riza he sees when he reflects on the very beginning of their story. The Riza who made him breakfast, who shared the secrets of flame alchemy, who mourned the lives of all the Ishvalans murdered in an unjust war.</p><p>Ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter what her hairstyle is. She’s the same person no matter what: the woman who vowed to protect his back and follow him into hell upon his request.</p><p>She clears her throat and places the luggage in the back seat of the car. The two dogs hop in the back with the luggage, and Roy takes a seat in the front.</p><p>First they drive to Warrant Officer Kain Fuery’s apartment. Black Hayate is initially excited to reunite with Fuery—the man who first found him—but begins to whine as Roy orders Blanco to stay behind and out of Fuery’s house. Riza verbally scolds her dog but kneels down to hold him closely in her arms to say goodbye, and Roy is touched by their deep bond.</p><p>The next stop is First Lieutenant Jean Havoc’s apartment. He answers the door with First Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina at his side.</p><p>Riza and Rebecca share pleasantries and a goodbye embrace. Meanwhile, Roy stoops down to meet Blanco’s gaze and gives her a gentle scratch on the neck as he says goodbye; the dog rubs herself into Roy’s touch and whines slightly as her owner rises back to standing and gestures towards the threshold of the apartment for Blanco to walk into.</p><p>“Don’t have too much fun in Xing without me, Riza!” Rebecca calls out excitedly as the three make their way out of Havoc’s building.</p><p>Leaving his car behind, the three pile into Havoc’s vehicle. Roy occupies the front seat and Riza sits by herself in the back, as is customary when the three of them travel together.</p><p>The drive from East City to Daliha generally takes around two hours. Roy is able to make the drive by himself in 90 minutes, but Riza never lets him drive unless he’s by himself. She doesn’t trust his ability to navigate the roads safely or abide by basic traffic laws.</p><p>The lieutenant and captain occupy themselves discussing newly issued military firearms while Roy flips through his notebook, somehow both hyper fixated and absentminded about the various conditions he must report back.</p>
<ul>
<li>
<em>State of Daliha train station</em>
<ul>
<li><em>Language accommodations</em></li>
<li><em>Military presence</em></li>
<li><em>Diplomatic relations</em></li>
</ul>
</li>
<li><em>Condition of train tracks</em></li>
<li><em>Amenities available on train</em></li>
<li><em>Comfort of ride</em></li>
<li>
<em>State of Shenzhen train station</em>
<ul>
<li><em>Language accommodations</em></li>
<li><em>Military presence</em></li>
<li><em>Diplomatic relations</em></li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul><p>Still, even though there are so many other things to consider, his eyes wander to the scar tissue on the right side of Riza’s neck, distracted by the prospect of healing her in Xing. He’s keenly aware that the physical manifestations of her pain—the scar on her neck, the burn marks on her back—are nothing compared to her inner turmoil, but having been the reason for so much of the trauma in her life, he’s committed to helping her heal for once instead.</p><p>—</p><p>Roy is startled awake by Riza, who is standing outside the car door shaking his shoulder. “We’re here, sir.”</p><p>He’s unable to recall when he passed out in the car; composing himself quickly, he picks up his notebook (which has fallen from his lap onto the floor of the car) and steps out of the car, following Havoc, who is carrying their luggage and leading them to the platform.</p><p>Roy takes a deep breath as he begins absorbing his surroundings. The entire region of Daliha is indistinguishable from when Team Mustang first began their rebuilding process over two years prior: the air is filled with the sound of countless voices, speaking in Amestrian and Ishvalan and even Xingese; the land is filled with buildings like schools and houses and shops; the energy of the entire area is filled with promise and cooperation. Years ago Roy had turned this area into a wasteland, and years later he and his team have helped develop it back into the bustling city it once was.</p><p>“Not bad, huh?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Having both understood his motivations for all these years and participated in the restoration, his two closest officers nod as they come to a stop in front of a bench at the station.</p><p>Despite having rebuilt this station himself, Roy is still struck by its appearance now that he has had time away. It’s not quite as industrial as the stations at Central or East City, but that’s by design. In many ways it’s modeled after the one in Resembool, with simple building construction.</p><p>Roy is pleased to note that the station is operating exactly as intended. All signs are in Amestrian, Ishvalan, and Xingese, including signs at ticket sale booths stating, <em> You may speak with a ticket seller in the language of your choice upon request </em>. The snack stand offers grab-and-go refreshments commonly enjoyed by all three groups. Every single employee is Ishvalan. And most importantly, with the exception of Roy, Riza, and Havoc, there are no armed military personnel to be found.</p><p>Havoc hands each officer their luggage and salutes them both. “Sirs, you two be careful there.”</p><p>Riza smiles. “We will. Thanks for bringing us.”</p><p>“And for taking care of Blanco,” Roy adds. “She’s not as well-trained as Black Hayate, but hopefully she doesn’t give you any trouble.”</p><p>The two place their luggage down and sit together on the bench as Havoc leaves. The platform itself is in good shape, with plenty of seating available and tracks that look to be in good condition as well. The train boasts a well-maintained exterior, with shiny paint and clean windows. Pleased with what he has observed so far, Roy jots down a few notes before tucking his notebook away into his jacket once again.</p><p>A bell rings loudly in the background, indicating it’s time for passengers to begin boarding. As the two begin to rise and collect their belongings, a conductor approaches. Just like every other employee at the station, he has dark skin and red eyes, but he asks in fluent Amestrian, “Sir, aren’t you Brigadier General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist?”</p><p>“Yes, but today I’m just traveling as Roy Mustang.”</p><p>“And you must be Captain Hawkeye,” the conductor notes, glancing at Riza.</p><p>She nods, offering the tickets in her hand. “Riza, actually.”</p><p>The conductor peers at the tickets; his brow crinkles and lips purse. “I have plenty of sleeper cars available if you two want to each have your own. I’d be happy to give you upgrades free of charge—anything for the team who’s given our family hope and a home again.”</p><p>Roy smiles in gratitude. “That’s a very kind offer, but we’ll take the standard seats. We don’t deserve special treatment just for being military. We’re traveling as civilians today.”</p><p>“So that’s why they like you, Roy Mustang.” The conductor stamps the tickets and leads the two soldiers onto a specific car on the train. “This car is adjacent to the dining car on one side and restrooms on the other side. If you don’t want a sleeper car, the least I can do is put you somewhere a little more convenient for your needs.”</p><p>The two soldiers mumble their thanks to the conductor, who walks back out of the train to work with other customers. Resting his chin in his gloved fingers, a slight smirk emerges on Roy’s face as he takes full stock of the interior of the train. “Not bad for the cheap seats.”</p><p>The interior of the train features clean, comfortable seating and plenty of room to walk. In fact, this train is in much better condition than any train Roy has been on, even the ones that pass through Central. It makes sense; after all, this is a relatively new line of service that connects to another country, and the trip through the expansive desert is fairly long and dull.</p><p>Riza places their luggage in the overhead compartment. She gestures to the two seats in front of them and offers him the window seat, knowing that part of his task on this trip is to take note of the conditions of the other Ishvalan cities and the other sights along the way. He takes the seat quickly and eagerly, and she follows into the aisle seat, placing her small tote bag on the floor in front of her.</p><p>“Are you comfortable, sir?”</p><p>He nods. “I’ll be fine. What about you, Hawkeye?”</p><p>She pulls out two neck pillows from her bag, offering one to him with a slight smile on her lips. “I figured you wouldn’t bring anything, so I packed these since we’ll be sleeping on these seats.”</p><p>Deeply moved by this subtly thoughtful gesture, Roy gestures to take the pillow and his fingertips graze hers for a moment; their eyes meet ever so briefly and Roy hastily pulls the pillow away, looking towards the window as he places it in his lap. Flustered, he pulls his State Alchemist pocket watch from the belt loop on his pants and notes the time.</p><p>“1100 hours,” he mumbles, still recovering from the rush of their slight shared touch. “How long is the ride, Captain?”</p><p>“Approximately 68 hours.”</p><p>He takes his notebook out again to take even more notes about the station and the train. Out of the corner of his eye, Riza has pulled out a book. He’s unable to see the front or back covers, but she has very specific taste in literature and he’s confident that her choice today is a murder mystery. She’s always enjoyed problem solving, whether in real life or in fiction.</p><p>The train’s engine whistles, signifying the beginning of the long journey ahead. Shifting his gaze out the window, he’s impressed by how smooth the ride feels. </p><p>“Hey Hawkeye, do you want to get lunch?” he asks, a sheepish grin on his face.</p><p>She peers up from her novel. “Sure, General.”</p><p>Leaving their neck pillows behind to signify that the seats are occupied, they make their way towards the dining car. No one else is in there except the Ishvalan attendant, who leads them to a booth with menus set out.</p><p>“Can I start you off with something to drink?” the attendant asks in Amestrian.</p><p>“I’ll take a flat water,” Roy answers.</p><p>“And sparkling water for me, please,” adds Riza.</p><p>As the attendant takes his leave, the two sit quietly, peering at the menus in front of them. Roy is pleased to see that menu on the train itself, much like the snack stand at the station, offers a combination of Amestrian, Ishvalan, and Xingese cuisine, and each dish is written in all three languages. One side features standard dishes, and the other side is an expansive menu of what is known in Xingese cuisine as dim sum.</p><p>Roy asks if Riza has ever had Xingese food before, and she shakes her head, explaining that despite her curiosity, she’s been hesitant to venture out without a recommendation. The general tells her to flip her menu over to the dim sum offerings, and her eyes widen.</p><p>“This all looks great, sir. But it’s also overwhelming—how do you know what to order?”</p><p>“The Xingese restaurants I’ve been to in Central with Madame Christmas don’t really have menus like this,” he explains. “Instead, the servers walk around with carts, and they show the customers what’s inside. The portions are much smaller, so you can try a variety of foods.”</p><p>The two pore over the dim sum menu together, with Roy animatedly explaining some of the different dishes. There’s a lot of shrimp dishes on the menu, and when Riza realizes this she’s visibly excited. Roy recalls that, as children, she’d make shrimp for dinner for them on very special occasions: Roy’s birthday, the anniversary of his arrival to Hawkeye Manor, Riza’s mother’s birthday, and really any other excuse to celebrate.</p><p>As they decide what to order, Roy explains that he had no appetite getting ready earlier in the morning, so they settle on four hearty dishes: <em> char siu bao </em> , <em> cheung fun </em> , <em> har gow </em>, and turnip cakes. Roy also makes sure to order jasmine tea to accompany their meal, explaining that tea is the typical drink of choice for a meal of dim sum. When the food arrives, Riza’s eyes light up in childlike wonder; she reaches for her chopsticks and uses them to skillfully retrieve a turnip cake before setting it on her plate.</p><p>“I thought you’d never had Xingese food before,” Roy remarks, using his own chopsticks to snag a slippery piece of har gow.</p><p>She shrugs. “I haven’t. But I learned how to use chopsticks in anticipation of our trip.”</p><p>The two eat together joyously, with no one around and no need for codes or meticulous plotting, for the first time in years. The table has a number of traditional Xingese sauces, and Roy takes great delight in showing her which sauces are used with which foods. Riza asks endless questions about his dim sum experiences back home, and he promises that not only will he bring her to a restaurant in Amestris when they get back, but that he’s heard of some of the best ones in Shenzhen that he’s excited to try with her as well. The sunlight coming in through the window hits Riza’s eyes in just the right way, and Roy spills a bit of tea on the napkin in his lap staring at the inimitable beauty of his adjutant. (His gawking is fairly obvious, but ever the polite dining companion, Riza clears her throat and averts her gaze rather than embarrassing him more than he already has.)</p><p>Upon finishing their lunch, they make their way back to their seats quietly, observing the makeup of the other passengers in their car—Xingese dignitaries, Amestrian tourists, and a sprinkling of Ishvalan families. There’s little background noise, with most passengers either sleeping or reading to themselves.</p><p>Roy removes another small notebook from his pocket: a personal notebook in his mother’s handwriting, given to him by Madame Christmas in his childhood. It’s one of the few personal effects left from his mother, and it contains notes of things she wanted to share with Roy and his father in the hope that they’d go to Xing together as a family one day. Businesses to go to, people to chat with, foods to try, sights to see.</p><p>He opens the notebook to a page saved by a photo of his mother and father. The photo is old and isn’t preserved properly so the edges are torn, but it’s easy for Roy to recognize his features in both of his parents. The dark hair and light skin from his Xingese mother, the smirk and penchant for precisely tailored clothes from his Amestrian father.</p><p>Though his physical features are in many ways clearly Xingese, he’s never shared his heritage with anyone outright, nor has the topic ever come up in his entire military career; he was born in Central and raised as an Amestrian, and his father was a well-respected officer in the military, so questioning his allegiance has never been of any importance. He has few memories of his parents, but he’d never heard his mother speak a lick of Xingese, so the concept of being anything but Amestrian is strange and unfamiliar to him.</p><p>Still, both the opportunity to learn more about this part of him and share that experience with Riza warm his heart. He turns to show her the photo and discuss its origin but as he looks at her, she has fallen asleep, breathing quietly with her eyelids fluttering, pillow at her side instead of on her neck.</p><p>Roy moves to get her pillow so he can place it around her neck and make her more comfortable; she yawns and leans her head on his shoulder wordlessly, with no sign that she is conscious or otherwise aware of what she has just done. He grins so hard that his cheeks hurt as he takes in the sheer domesticity of embarking on a train ride together and Riza falling asleep on his shoulder upon trying a new kind of cuisine.</p><p>All at once, memories and thoughts and ideas all cross Roy’s mind so quickly it’s as if he’s at the Gate again. Grumman’s first visit to them in the hospital. Executive Order 3204. Thoughts of a life where he can hold Riza’s hand with intention. Ideas of how to create a home together and protect each other. A world where they might be able to continue atoning for what they’ve done but also leave room to be happy.</p><p>In his younger years he would have scolded himself for even considering himself worthy of a life with moderate happiness, but over the years he’s gradually come to realize that a life of self-flagellation is unproductive at best and dangerous at worst. No level of atonement could ever reverse the pain one has caused or bring back lives that have been lost, but there is always room for growth and learning nonetheless. Alchemy may be guided by the principle of equivalent exchange, but life—with living, breathing people—is far more complex than a 1:1 ratio. People deserve happiness in their lives, through great joys and smaller ones too.</p><p>For years, Roy has struggled to determine what the greatest joy of his life is, in light of all he has done and all he has failed to do. But as he inhales deeply, taking in the scent of Riza’s rose shampoo as she rests on his shoulder, he now recognizes how delusional it has been to think that the joy of his life is something as inconsequential as an object or accomplishment. In reality, the more appropriate question would be <em> who </em> that great joy of his life is.</p><p>Luckily for Roy, he’s always known the answer to that question.</p><p>—</p><p>Other than the occasional conversation with another passenger, the remainder of the train ride is uneventful. The seemingly unending view of the desert is about as interesting as Roy suspected, and instead of daydreaming as he looks out the window, he gazes at Riza while she’s engrossed in a novel. Of course, she takes notice and he quickly averts his gaze, but as soon she returns her focus to the book, his eyes are back on her.</p><p>For the final stretch of the ride, Roy sleeps to ward off some of the boredom and restlessness he’s accumulated over a weekend of nothing but the sight of sand and the tight space of the train car. (It had appeared spacious and comfortable upon their arrival, but after nearly three days of being confined to their section, Roy is itching to exit the train car and stretch his legs.) </p><p>The train pulls into the Shenzhen station with a sudden halt, sending the general out of his slumber. He’s immediately met with the voice of his adjutant, who informs him they have arrived. Riza grabs their luggage from the overhead compartment. </p><p>“Let me carry my things,” Roy insists as he takes his luggage from Riza’s arms before she even has a chance to protest. </p><p>Riza simply rolls her eyes and the two make their way to the front of the train. The conductor clips the side off of their tickets, and Roy thanks him for the peaceful ride while Riza gives him a generous tip for his service. </p><p>“Make sure to travel with us again!” the conductor cheerily says as they step off of the train and enter the station. </p><p>The Shenzhen station is brimming with people—Amestrian travelers like Roy and Riza, Xingese citizens, and even the Ishvalan families that the general recognizes from the train. Businessmen are clamoring to get to their correct trains, but there’s an air of coordination and understanding amidst the hurriedness. There hasn’t been one dirty look or even an inkling of a verbal altercation between the travelers, and this unspoken social harmony would be a novel concept at a station in Central. </p><p>Even through all of his daydreaming and thinking over the past weekend, Roy hasn’t made a clear plan of just what he would do upon arrival in Xing. Of course he plans to meet with Mei Chang and learn about alkahestry, but other than that, he’s completely lost on what to do beforehand. </p><p>Thankfully, Roy has an ever-thoughtful and meticulous captain to show him the way.</p><p>“We need to find a currency exchange center,” Riza says as she leads him to a directory of the train station. </p><p>Roy nods and looks at the directory. At the bottom of the display is a key with translations into Ishvalan and Amestrian, just like at the Dahila station. He points to a spot on the map where an exchange center is located. “This one is on the other side of the station, near the taxi drop-off and pick up center.” </p><p>“Then we’ll stop there,” Riza confirms. She scans the directory again before peering out across the overwhelming crowd. There’s a familiar, calculating glint in her eyes as she searches for an adequate path to the other side of the station. (She gets this trait from her grandfather—Roy’s seen that look in Grumman’s eyes too many times). Her brow is furrowed in complete focus, but the general is also highly aware of Riza’s aversion towards crowds, and it’s painfully obvious the stress she’s under as she tries to sort through this mass of people.</p><p>“Hawkeye,” Roy says firmly, breaking her attention away from the crowd. </p><p>Riza’s initial expression is nothing short of a glare when she turns to face him, but her eyes quickly soften as soon as they meet his. “Yes, General?” </p><p>“You can relax while we’re here,” Roy assures. He smiles at his adjutant. “We’re traveling as civilians, remember?” </p><p>It takes a moment for his words to sink it, but when finally they do, Riza visibly relaxes, a bit of the tension leaving her shoulders. </p><p>“It’s been a long time since I’ve traveled as a civilian,” she admits. “I’m unsure if I know how to proceed without the structure of an agenda, sir.” </p><p>Roy shakes his head and smiles. “Well, Hawkeye,” he says, moving to her side, “I think that means we can do whatever we want.” The general takes his mother’s notebook out of his satchel and flips to a marked page, pointing to circled lines of his mother’s writing.</p><p>“This is my mother’s journal,” Roy starts and meets the gaze of his adjutant. He’s anxious to divulge this side of himself, but sharing this personal fact with Riza feels right. “It’s the only item left of her belongings, where she wrote about her time in Xing.” He takes out the worn photo of his mother and father. “My father was Amestrian, but my mother was Xingese.” </p><p>Riza briefly examines the photo before returning her eyes to his. “You look just like her, sir. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself with me.” </p><p>“You’re the first person I’ve shared this with,” he admits as he turns to another page. “My mother repeatedly talks about a certain street market, one she would have taken me too if she had gotten the chance. How about we find it?” </p><p>Riza smiles at him. “Just as soon as we exchange our currency, we’ll be all set, sir.” </p><p>Roy beams back at her as he places the book back in his bag. “Lead the way, Captain.” </p><p>The two navigate through the crowd and manage to find the currency exchange center without bumping into anyone on their way. Riza skillfully handles their finances, receiving an equal amount of Xingese notes, or <em> yuan </em>, in return. While she sorts and counts the money, Roy sits on a bench with his mother’s journal, examining the pictures and her writing once again. </p><p>There’s no way of knowing how many times Roy has read these same pages or picked apart and analyzed the aged, black-and-white photos of his mother’s time in Xing. The entire book is almost committed to his memory, and he knows his mother’s handwriting almost as much as he knows his own. But the general never believed he would be able to consult it during a trip to Xing, and he’s overwhelmed with anticipation and excitement as he flips through these same pages, now viewing them in an entirely new light. </p><p>Riza returns from the exchange desk with a coin purse, per the recommendation of the teller. </p><p>“Could the teller speak Amestrian?” Roy inquires and looks up from the journal as she sits down beside him. </p><p>Riza answers, “Not fluently, but enough to get her point across.” She places a handful of coins in the small satchel and tucks it into her jacket. She motions to the journal and asks, “Are you able to determine where this street market is solely based on what your mother left you?” </p><p>Roy nods and points to his mother’s repeated mentions of the market, flipping to each of his marked pages for reference. “I can’t see a name anywhere, but each of these stalls has a tiny flag, with flowers embroidered in the fabric.” Roy holds up two pictures for Riza to see. He also relays his mother’s description of the flag—deep blue with gold and silver accents around the flowers, which his mother refers to as plum blossoms. “We should be able to find it by that symbol alone.” </p><p>“Did she mention a street name or an address?” Riza cranes her neck over Roy’s shoulder to further examine the photo. </p><p>Roy shakes his head. “She didn’t. Just the details about the flag and the pictures. Though assuming it’s a popular street market, we should be able to find it without too much trouble.” </p><p>“The good thing is we’ve got almost all day to find it.” She informs him that their hotel check-in time isn’t until later this evening. She also tells him that the station offers a luggage shipping service in partnership with the hotel she chose, so they don’t have to worry about carrying their belongings around all day. </p><p>Roy is especially relieved and thankful that he won’t be hauling his suitcase for the entirety of their crusade. He then hands the picture with the flags in the background to Riza and places the book back in his satchel before saying, “We’ll use that photo for our main reference.” </p><p>“Yes, sir,” she affirms, bringing the photo closer to her face and analyzing the background for any missed details. </p><p>Roy stands from the bench and gathers his luggage once again. He asks the captain for the directions to the luggage drop-off center, and she rises and leads him to the desk across from the exchange center. </p><p>Riza tells the man behind the desk about their reservation, and he quickly gives them a cart for their luggage. He also asks them to write their last name on a tag, so the hotel is able to identify their items when they arrive. She complies, but writes only his last name on the tag. </p><p>Roy tilts his head at this, but Riza is quick to explain. </p><p>“Your name is on the reservation,” she clarifies to Roy while returning the slip back to the man. “If I do this, the luggage won’t be lost.”</p><p>The reason is perfectly logical but Roy can’t help imagining a life where Riza has his last name. This trip would be under different circumstances; it even might have possibly been their honeymoon. Does this man assume that they’re a couple on a romantic getaway? What else would constitute a man and a woman, sharing luggage and a room reservation during a week-and-a-half long stay in Xing?</p><p>But a romantic getaway is far from the true description of why they are here; this man could never begin to understand just how important this trip is to both Roy and Riza. This trip is another chance for atonement, of reversing the pain Roy inflicted upon Riza so many years ago. </p><p>“Now that we’ve taken care of everything,” Riza says, interrupting Roy’s thoughts, “where would you like to begin, sir?” </p><p>Roy thinks for a moment, but then responds, “Let’s just start walking. It’s just now—” he takes out his pocket watch and opens the face “—7:45. We could find breakfast somewhere, if you’d like.”<br/>
<br/>
Riza nods, and just as she begins to respond, her stomach audibly growls. “Yes, sir,” she says and rolls her eyes at the display of her hunger. “Breakfast sounds good right about now.” </p><p>The general doesn’t even try to suppress his light laugh as they begin walking to the exit of the train station and enter into the streets of Shenzhen. </p><p>Roy is immediately in awe of the scenery. </p><p>Red and gold flags with Xingese characters wave from the surrounding buildings (though none of them match his mother’s description of the market’s main signifier). Unlit lanterns of all shapes and sizes hang from the rafters of storefronts. Stalls outside of stores offer samples of what is sold inside, and sellers pitch their products as people walk by. Various cafes offer seating just off the sidewalk, where customers are enjoying their meals. Citizens clamor throughout the streets, and the majority of them are women and young children donning colorful and intricately designed fabrics. </p><p>As they walk further, there’s another building with, notably, the same architecture as one in a photo from his mother; he takes great joy in recognizing these individual sights, even if he hasn’t ever been to Xing. </p><p>The two simply wander and take in all of the unfamiliar environment before their hunger finally gets the better of them, and they find a breakfast cafe that his mother listed as a recommendation. </p><p>“This is it,” Roy says, holding up a photo to compare it to the storefront. “The characters on the banner are the same, don’t you think?”</p><p>Riza takes a glance at the picture and at the cafe in front of her, and she nods in confirmation. “I believe so. And it only took us—” she checks her watch “—an hour and fifteen minutes to find it.” </p><p>Roy marvels at the cafe, and it dawns on him that his mother probably sat in one of these very chairs when she was alive. It’s a shock that the cafe is still open, but he hopes that she would be proud of him for finding it. </p><p>He turns to say something playfully defensive but is interrupted by a Xingese man, who hands him a flier. The man points to the street across from them and quickly utters something in Xingese, but the general can’t make it out.</p><p>“What is it, General?” Riza asks. </p><p>Roy quickly examines the flier, and he can’t believe his eyes. The paper is a shade of deep blue, with gold and silver accented flowers decorating the corners. The design matches his mother’s description of the street market’s flag. </p><p>“Look across the street, Hawkeye,” Roy orders as he pulls his mother's journal out of his bag, taking the photo of the flags from between the pages. “Are there flags that look like this?” He holds up the flier and the photo side by side and looks at Riza. </p><p>Riza’s mouth falls agape, and she meets Roy’s eyes. “Yes, sir,” she replies, “It’s a perfect match.” </p><p>Roy shifts his attention across the street; blue and gold flags are flying from two posts at the entrance of the street market they’ve been searching for. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at their stroke of luck. </p><p>“How about heading over there, Hawkeye?” Roy suggests, looking at the flier again for the market’s name. “The <em> Meihua </em> marketplace, this says. My mother said the Xingese name for the plum blossom is <em> meihua </em>, so that must be where they got the name and the design of the flag.”</p><p>Riza smiles. “As long as we get something to eat while we’re there,” she says. “I’m <em> still </em>hungry.” </p><p>“I promise you we’ll find something to eat,” Roy assures. “My mother says they have the best street food in Xing, so I don’t think we’ll be disappointed.” </p><p>The two cross the street and enter through the opened gates of the market, immediately inhaling the scent of familiar spices—<em>sichuan peppercorn</em>, <em>sesame oil</em>, and <em>cloves</em>, Roy notes—used in the food. The market is full of people, both browsing customers like Roy and Riza and vendors alike. Just like in his mother’s photos, each stall has a tiny flag in a glass jar next to the items for sale. He’s overjoyed to be walking in the market that his mother has been leading him to all this time, and Roy has never felt closer to her than he has right now.</p><p>They walk a bit farther into the street market and stop at the first food stall they see. </p><p>“Sir,” Riza begins, a hint of apprehensiveness in her tone. “I don’t know how to speak any Xingese, so I don’t think I’ll be able to be able to get us through this one.” </p><p>Roy nods and flashes a confident smile before assuring her that it won’t be a problem. Riza quirks an eyebrow in a confused interest, but Roy simply steps up to the stall without an explanation. </p><p>Nervousness suddenly surges through him, but Roy pushes the sensation as far back as he can. An older woman greets him in Xingese, and to the surprise of his adjutant, he is able to respond. Roy shakily orders <em> jiaozi </em> , a meat dumpling, and <em> chuan’r </em>, strips of pork wrapped on bamboo sticks, two servings of each for both of them to share. </p><p>It takes him a moment to get his point across, but the lady smiles and tells him the cost. He quickly asks Riza for the adequate amount of money and gives it to the woman across the counter before thanking her in Xingese. </p><p>Riza’s face is that of pure surprise. “General,” she asks, a smile rising on her lips, “when did you find time to learn Xingese?” </p><p>Roy proudly smiles and explains that he’s been practicing in anticipation of their trip. The vendor then gives them a brown bag of their dumplings, and two meat skewers wrapped in red paper. </p><p>“Maybe someday you’ll be fluent,” Riza says as he gives her the paper sack of dumplings, “if you have a different attitude towards learning Xingese as you do towards paperwork.” She chuckles lightly as they begin to walk, searching for a place to sit and eat. </p><p>Roy laughs and shakes his head, but he’s immensely proud to have impressed his adjutant. He took on the skill not only in preparation for their trip, but also to hear Riza’s praise. “You’ve got quite the nerve, Captain. I bet you I’ll be the first Amestrian general who’s fluent in Xingese.” </p><p>“I think you should focus on perfecting your ordering skills before trying to tackle the whole language, sir,” Riza returns with joy in her eyes and a proud smile. </p><p>As soon as they find the nearest bench, Roy and Riza unwrap their food and immediately begin to eat, unable to contain themselves any longer. </p><p>Riza unwraps the meat skewer and takes a piece of meat into her mouth, letting out a sigh of enjoyment. “This is <em> amazing </em>, sir.”</p><p>“Hawkeye, you <em> need </em> to try these,” Roy says after tearing off a bite of the meat dumpling. The flavor is absolutely divine; he’s never had such well-prepared dumplings in his life. The breading is soft and baked to perfection, and the inner contents of the dumpling are full of flavorful meat. </p><p>Roy and Riza scarf down their portions within a matter of minutes, without a word to the other as they eat. Roy loves sharing a meal with Riza, whether they are excitedly talking between staggered bites or inhaling the meal in focused silence. While he prefers the former, it doesn’t matter, because he only wants to spend time with her. </p><p>They discard the paper sack and the skewers in the nearest trash bin and return to the bench to rest for a moment.</p><p>“Well, General,” Riza starts after wiping her mouth with a napkin, “where to now?” </p><p>Roy lets out a heavy exhale. “We should probably walk some of that food off and explore the marketplace a bit more,” he suggests. “There’s no telling how extensive this place is.” </p><p>“Rebecca said to buy some jade jewelry while I’m here,” Riza says. “She told me green looks nice with my eye color, but I’ll probably try to find some for her.” </p><p>Roy smiles and briefly imagines Riza wearing jade earrings and a matching necklace. He can see how Rebecca would say it suits her. <em> Maybe I should try to find her one. </em> </p><p>“She’s not wrong,” Roy quietly remarks with a smile. Blush creeps up on both their cheeks when he adds, “Green is most definitely your color.” Before he can compliment her again and be so obvious with his attraction any more, the general stands from the bench and motions for Riza to walk with him. </p><p>The two browse both sides of the streets, admiring all of the different items on display for sale. Of course, there are numerous choices of food and beverages, and Riza decides to purchase two varieties of oolong tea—<em> da hong pao </em> and <em> tieguanyin </em>—in boxes, to make when they return home. Roy buys a medium-sized bag of dried fruit for them to snack on while they walk. </p><p>The selection of vendors slowly shifts from food and drink to collectables, such as small figurines made of various shades of jade. There are also handcrafted items—scented candles, colorful stuffed animals, and painted paper fans. Riza picks up a plum blossom scented candle for Rebecca and a paper fan for herself. (Roy’s thankful they arrived in the morning, or he would probably need that fan by now.) </p><p>It takes them almost an hour to walk through the entirety of the crafts selection, and the next division of the market they come upon is the jewelry section. Even if he doesn’t wear it, Roy is in awe of the wide variety of traditionally styled jewelry that each vendor has to offer, like strung pearl necklaces and pendants and beaded jade bracelets. He admires the intricacy of the beautiful designs and stops to get a closer look at a stall with jade necklaces while Riza is looking at pearls for Rebecca. </p><p>The salesman at this stall is an older gentleman, who is nonchalantly polishing silver when Roy begins to browse. Roy admires a certain pendant necklace with a silver chain, with a Xingese character he doesn’t understand in the center of the deep jade circle. </p><p>“That one says <em> love </em>,” the man says in broken Amestrian and sets his silver to the side. “Perfect for the woman you’re with.” He motions his hand over Roy’s shoulder, and he doesn’t even have to look to know he’s referring to Riza. </p><p>Heat rises in Roy’s cheeks. His first instinct is to protest and explain to the man that she is his subordinate, but instead he asks, “How much?” </p><p>“For you,” the man hums, thinking for a moment, “155 <em> yuan </em>.” </p><p>Roy doesn’t hesitate to pull out his wallet and gather the proper amount for the gentleman. He quickly hands the notes to him and places his wallet back in his satchel, but when he looks up, he’s face to face with the woman in question. </p><p>“What have you bought, sir?” Riza asks and looks at the display. </p><p>Roy can <em> feel </em>the color of his cheeks shift to red as the man gives him the necklace and thanks him in Xingese. He stammers with his response but manages to return the thanks in Xingese. </p><p>“I couldn’t help myself,” Roy explains as he lays the pendant across the top of his hand for her to see. </p><p>Riza admires the necklace for a moment before she brings her eyes back to Roy’s own, a soft, genuine smile on her face. “It’s beautiful, sir,” she remarks. “But for me?” </p><p>Roy nods and walks behind her, stringing the necklace around her neck. His hands tremble at the fine movement, but he manages to fasten the chain together on the first try. When he moves back around to face her, the pendant is at the center of her chest, and Roy almost sheds tears at the beautiful sight. </p><p>“Yes,” he says softly, “For you.” </p><p>—</p><p>To Roy’s relief, the walk from the market to the hotel is short and sweet. The pair exchange very few words, and though most people would balk at the idea of a silent walk with someone to whom they just gave a gift, Roy knows better.</p><p>The two have walked side-by-side for years, strung together by both the carefree nature of childhood and the abrupt reality of genocide. Theirs is a relationship transcending mere words—its entire foundation is the tap of a boot, a shake of the head, a dropping of a pen, a soft sigh. It’s pricey dog treats left by an “anonymous admirer”, or a sandwich quietly placed on the desk in the midst of a late night of work.</p><p>This doesn’t mean that they’re always silent with each other. There are inside jokes only the two of them know, memories of stolen moments reading books together or picking up groceries. </p><p>In Xing, though, words aren’t important. The true goal for Roy is to bring peace and healing to Riza. New memories are a given, but even if he lost his memory today, it wouldn’t matter.</p><p>Still, Roy hesitates as they continue walking towards their destination, torn about the nature of their relationship. Much as he yearns for a leisurely trip as just Roy and Riza, this isn’t it.</p><p>Riza clears her throat, interrupting Roy’s thoughts. “We’re here, sir.”</p><p>Roy looks up past eye level and marvels at the grandeur of this hotel. Hotels in Amestris are varied in their offerings: some are opulent with endless amenities, but others are utilitarian and merely provide a place to lay one’s head at the end of the day. Still, the best hotels of Amestris don’t even compare to what is right in front of Roy after crossing the desert. The hotel is a marvel to behold from the outside, with large windows peering in and simple shapes to catch the eye, but its exterior doesn’t even compare to the inside.</p><p>The lobby features high ceilings topped by gilded patterns and a large, ornate chandelier. Lounge chairs are sprinkled throughout the space, made of fashionably mismatching materials like velvet and lacquer. At the back of the lobby is a window with a view of the garden outside; in front of the window is a musician, sitting and playing a stringed instrument whose sounds echo through the hallway.</p><p>Off in the front corner is the bell desk, with bellhops in dark green uniforms chatting animatedly amongst themselves and to customers. To the right of the entrance is the front desk, and next to it is a large spiral staircase with white steps, marble treaders, and shiny gold-plated railing. Halfway up the stairs hangs another round crystal chandelier, though it’s turned off because of the abundant natural light currently filtering in through the windows. To the left of the entrance are three sets of elevators with black doors, beset with clean geometric shapes in silver plating.</p><p>The hotel exudes a type of relaxed elegance and refinery that personally speaks to Roy—but of course, he’s not shocked whatsoever that his adjutant is able to resourcefully find a hotel to his liking without even consulting him.</p><p>Making their way to the front desk, they fall in line behind a Xingese mother and her son, who appears to be no more than four years old. He turns around and gives Riza a confused look—no doubt because she has blonde hair—before waving at her shyly. She grins and waves back at him, and as always, Roy is awestruck with how kindly she responds to children.</p><p>An attendant wraps up with another guest and calls Roy and Riza over with a wave of her hand.</p><p>“Welcome to the Eastern Hotel. My name is Fei. How may I assist you today?” Her Amestrian is slightly accented but still easy to understand.</p><p>Riza pulls out a folder from her bag. “We have a reservation under the name Roy Mustang,” she answers as she looks at a paper tucked into the right flap.</p><p>The attendant shuffles through a file organizer and pulls a short stack of papers out. “Ah, I see your reservation right here. Two guests, ten days, for the executive suite.”</p><p>Riza’s brow crinkles. “There must be a mistake. I made this reservation myself and specifically requested two standard-size adjoining rooms, one bed each.”</p><p>Fei smiles. “My mistake. I see here that someone called in to upgrade your room and prepaid for it as well. On any other day I’d be happy to reverse it and refund the charge, but all our standard rooms are booked up, unfortunately. I’m sorry, Mrs. Mustang.”</p><p>Heat rises to Roy’s cheeks. For many years he’s fantasized hopelessly about a life where he might be able to call Riza by her first name, while others would call her by his surname. A life where they’d stand proudly next to each other, instead of Riza behind him to protect and watch his back. A life where, in fact, he might be able to protect her more instead.</p><p>This is not that life.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Riza reassures Fei warmly. Notably absent from her response is any attempt to correct the attendant for misnaming her.</p><p>“Are you celebrating anything today? Perhaps a honeymoon, an anniversary, a birthday?”</p><p>The two soldiers exchange puzzled looks and shake their heads in unison. “Not really,” Roy answers. “We’re here for work.”</p><p>Fei blushes. “Oh. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” Attempting to mask her embarrassment, she picks up the phone and dials a number quickly. Roy isn’t able to make out all the words based on her speed, but he hears his name, the word for room, and the word for bags.</p><p>Riza smiles warmly back at the flustered attendant. “It’s fine. Thank you for asking.”</p><p>“You’ll be in room 75,” Fei says, handing Riza a small envelope. “Here are two sets of keys. Is there anything else I can do for you while we wait for the bellhop to bring you to your room? Most of our guest-facing staff speak Amestrian, but if you’re having any trouble, we have dedicated translation staff on-call 24/7.”</p><p>“<em> No thank you </em>,” Roy says in Xingese, earning a grin from the hotel employee.</p><p>“Impressive!” Fei responds, in Amestrian. “Do you speak Xingese as well, Miss...?”</p><p>“Just Riza is fine,” she answers. “But no. Just him.”</p><p>The bellhop arrives just a few moments later; he tries to string a sentence together in broken Amestrian, but Roy reassures him that he can speak enough Xingese to communicate.</p><p>“We have a pamphlet of our amenities in your room, but please let the front desk know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable,” Fei calls out after them.</p><p>The bellhop brings their items on a cart with him and leads them down the hallway to the elevators; from there, they pop into the first available life, which he operates until they reach the highest floor. As they walk down the hallway, Roy is impressed by the architecture on the penthouse, which features windows embellished with arrays and other geometric shapes. Everything about the hotel is so crispy and clean—not too busy, but also not too plain.</p><p>They reach the end of the hallway and find their room, which is marked by a crisp sign that says “75”. The bellhop gestures towards the lock and Riza unlocks the door with the key provided by the front desk.</p><p>The room is opulent in a way Roy is not accustomed to. To the right of the entrance is an expansive living room area, with both a large couch and a plush velvet armchair situated close to a fireplace. There’s also a writing desk with stationery, pens, a phone, and the amenity pamphlet that the front desk attendant mentioned. Past the living room is a large floor-to-ceiling window with the curtains pushed back, revealing a balcony with a skyline view of Shenzhen. The balcony also features two more plush velvet arm chairs and a coffee table, no doubt for executives entertaining clients and guests.</p><p>Meanwhile, to the left of the entrance is a rectangular dining table, topped with a small but impressively bright crystal chandelier that is already lit. The table has four place settings, and in the middle of the table is a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle, two glasses, and a note on the hotel stationery. Roy walks over to pick up the note; the handwriting is unfamiliar and appears to be from a hotel employee, dictated by another person.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> 3204. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> CEG </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> PS: Tell her not to worry. This is all coming out of my personal budget. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Blushing at the note’s implication, he scans the room quickly to make sure no one is looking and tucks it into his coat pocket, intending to burn it so Riza doesn’t ever accidentally find it.</p><p>The bellhop offers to hang their clothing and unpack their toiletry, but they both decline. Riza offers the bellhop a generous tip and he takes his leave, grateful for her kindness.</p><p>Riza announces that she’s going to explore the room and bathroom; meanwhile, Roy continues to walk around the living room, admiring the hotel stationery and the sturdy construction of the desk and accompanying chair. He surveys the rest of the room one more time and is excited about the prospect of resting after a long day of traveling, both by train and on foot. </p><p>As he gets comfortable near the fireplace and motions to pull on his ignition cloth glove, Riza calls out from off in the distance. “Sir, we have a problem.”</p><p>Roy makes his way over quickly, noting the worry in her voice. When he enters the sleeping quarters of the suite, it’s clear what she’s concerned about: there’s only one bed.</p><p>He almost laughs; as a child, his adoptive sisters regularly indulged in romance novels and talked his ear off about plotlines mirroring their current situation. In fact, this predicament is even more ridiculous, as if it’s taken straight from a novel left at the bar: a soldier in love with his subordinate takes a work trip with her and upon arrival to their accommodations, they realize there’s only one bed.</p><p>The bed is clearly large enough to accommodate more than one body, but Roy steadfastly refuses to cross the neatly drawn up boundary they’ve placed between themselves over all these years. Not now. Not when they’ve already done so much for Ishval. Not when he’s close to freeing her from so much pain.</p><p>Instead of giving in to the affection and desire in his heart, he instead shrugs the entire situation off as he tells her matter-of-factly, “It <em> is </em>an executive suite.”</p><p>Riza rubs her temple as her brow furrows. Usually this is something that Roy does; perhaps she’s picking up some of his less pleasant habits. “This isn’t a tenable option, General. I’ll take the couch.” She briefly flutters her eyes closed and sighs heavily. “I blame this on the Fuhrer. He should have known better.”</p><p>Roy is fully aware that although they may not be pure, Grumman’s intentions are certainly <em> good </em>, borne out of love for his granddaughter and a desire to ensure her needs are met. Still, his heart is racing a mile a minute, and his brain is running marathons his mouth can’t catch up to. After all, had life been kinder to them, they might already be married, and this would be one of many globetrotter vacations spent together. A single bed wouldn’t be an issue whatsoever for a simple couple in love.</p><p>Unfortunately, life has not been kind whatsoever to either of these hardened soldiers, so all he can do is ensure her comfort as much as possible, from afar.</p><p>“Why don’t you take the bed, Hawkeye?” he blurts out. “It’s more comfortable and warm in this room.”</p><p>She shakes her head. “I’ll sleep on the floor if the temperature is your worry. With all due respect, sir, as your bodyguard, it’s best that I am your first line of defense.”</p><p>“I don’t want you alone and uncomfortable, Hawkeye. Just take the damn bed and I’ll figure it out for myself. That’s an order.”</p><p>She frowns, but her eyes give away her resignation as she wordlessly takes her luggage and unfolds it on the floor. “Shall I unpack your things, sir?”</p><p>The general shakes his head. “I can do it.”</p><p>The two begin to unpack and the domesticity makes Roy’s heart skip a beat. They’ve never been in a situation like this, unpacking items together—it’s always been separate, adjoining rooms, with the door always slightly cracked to afford some privacy but allow for easy access in case of emergency. While his priority is unpacking his toiletries, Riza motions first to unpack her clothing, hanging up her dresses in the closet and tucking away other articles of clothing in the chest of drawers. He notices a black wrap dress with sunflowers in the closet and he’s nearly brought to his knees at the idea of her hair down, wandering carefree through a marketplace, holding his hand with the sunshine beating down on them.</p><p>As he begins to unfurl his toiletry bag in the restroom, his stomach growls and he nearly laughs at how loud it is. Recalling Fei’s earlier comment about an amenity pamphlet, he wanders back into the living room and rifles through the pamphlet of amenities on the office desk.</p><p>The first few pages are procedural—what to do in case of fire, who to call for medical emergencies, what extra items one can request from the front desk. But as he keeps turning the pages, he finds a map of Shenzhen, some local recommendations, and most importantly, what is available in the hotel. Listed on the pamphlet is a fine dining restaurant on the second floor, and seeing the bottle of champagne on the dining table has only bolstered Roy’s appetite.</p><p>“Hey captain,” he calls out, “should we get some dinner from the restaurant downstairs?”</p><p>“We’re not fully unpacked yet, sir. Could you give me a moment?”</p><p>“We can have it brought up here,” he points out. “Easy for us to unpack while we wait. Come here and look at the menu with me, I can order.”</p><p>She walks over, and from under the pamphlet he pulls out a menu for the hotel restaurant, both in Amestrian and Xingese. Riza is still uncertain about the best dishes to order, so Roy swears that her life will be changed by soup dumplings. They also order shrimp <em> shumai </em>, spare ribs, chicken pot stickers, and egg rolls—some of Roy’s absolute favorites, which he’s confident will be even better in Xing than what he’s eaten back home in Amestris.</p><p>Not much later, a hotel employee stops by with their food order. They’ve ordered so much that it’s all on a cart, with chopsticks, napkins, and all the steamer baskets which are still piping hot. Impressed with the level and speed of service, Riza makes sure to give the employee a large tip once the cart is situated next to the dining table; the employee bows profusely before departing.</p><p>Roy grins as he places the ice bucket and champagne glasses on the cart. He continues to push it through the room, by the balcony window, when he remarks, “We were cooped up in that train for so long. Why don’t we eat out here and get some fresh air?”</p><p>She shrugs back at him nonchalantly, but the glimmer in her eyes lets slip her joy. “Why not?”</p><p>They sit on the balcony for what feels like hours, nibbling on their order and sipping the bottle of champagne. In some ways this meal is like the one shared on the train, filled with laughs and carefree conversation. But with a view of the Shenzhen skyline, checked into a hotel away from prying eyes, encouraged by the Fuhrer to get close to one another, it’s a whole different world than the one they lived in years ago.</p><p>As the sun sets over the horizon, bathing the sky in orange-tinted light, Roy raises his glass for a toast as he pours the remainder of the bottle into their glasses. “To us,” he declares boldly.</p><p>“Yes,” she answers softly, turning her gaze to him with a hint of a smile. “To us.”</p><p>Riza takes one last sip of her champagne and excuses herself, telling him that she is going to shower and get ready for bed after their long day. Once she disappears into the suite and he hears the water turn on, Roy erupts into a fit of tears so overwhelming he’s fearful he might choke. His throat aches and his eyes throb, but the physical pain is nothing compared to how bittersweet this moment is. He’s so close to her, so eager and ready to hold her through the night, but deep down he’s still afraid of so much: her rejection; his unworthiness and guilt; poor timing; laws that no longer even exist; the wrath of her father, who has long since passed away.</p><p>To others those might sound like excuses; to Roy, they’re very real, albeit abstract, reasons why he has never mustered up the courage to try a relationship with her. Even though they’ve continued to build a solid foundation of trust and respect, it’s much more complex than what meets the eye.</p><p>Despite the fact that he’s resigned to his pain, he doesn’t want Riza to overhear him and worry, so he wipes away the tears in his eyes and clears his throat. Downing the very last of his drink, he does his best to simply sit and absorb the astonishing view of the skyline.</p><p>His thoughts are so agonizing that Riza’s departure feels like hours, but she soon returns dressed in a deep green silk pajama set. “I miss Hayate,” she admits from out of the blue, leaning on the doorframe.</p><p>He smiles back at her. “I know.”</p><p>“General, please stay in the bed.” She pauses, frowning at the grin slowly developing on his face. “It’s safer that way, and I don’t want to put you out. I feel bad having you sleep on the floor or couch when Fuhrer Grumman paid for such an expensive bed,” she explains.</p><p>“I could say the same to you about the couch and floor,” he mumbles.</p><p>She shrugs and makes stern eye contact with him. “Fine. No funny business.”</p><p>Nodding solemnly, he ventures back into the suite and shuts the balcony door behind him. Riza sits on the couch with a book, telling him to call for her when he’s done getting ready for bed.</p><p>When he’s done showering, he returns to the living room and finds her asleep on the couch with the book on her face. He carefully marks her place and sets the book down on the coffee table before picking her up and carrying her into the room. He lays her down on her back and tucks the blanket over her, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, when he notices that she’s left the necklace he bought on her nightstand next to her two guns.</p><p>He lays his ignition cloth gloves on his nightstand and climbs into bed, facing away from her. She mumbles in her sleep and turns away from him onto her side, and he’s warmed by their mutual desire to protect each other even in their slumber.</p><p>That evening, Roy falls asleep with a beam so big his cheeks and jaw ache.</p><p>—</p><p>In the middle of the night, Roy wakes up with a need to use the restroom, no doubt from all the champagne.</p><p>He’s shocked to feel Riza pressed up against him, hand on his arm, out like a light. Attempting to get out of bed, he pulls away, only for her to pull him back in. He whispers <em> captain </em>but she’s unresponsive; she’s still fast asleep and clearly unaware of what she is doing in her unconscious state.</p><p>Resigned to his fate, and barely awake enough to process the situation, he falls back asleep.</p><p>—</p><p>That morning when he wakes up, they are both facing away from each other, in the exact same positions they fell asleep in, with no indication of the late night embrace.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>vade: i’ve never been on a train and there are no train stations where i live, so while writing my section i had to consult both my geometry teacher and a close friend of mine about their experience in new york central station. also i did a bunch of research on things that show up in chinese street markets so the portrayal would be accurate, and i learned a lot about chinese culture while writing this! that was super fun and is honestly one of the reasons i love writing. we wrote a lot about food too, so i apologize if you start craving chinese food after reading this. i know i certainly did :D</p><p>priscilla: since i live in the united states, we’re still not able to responsibly do things we used to do pre-covid, so this entire chapter was basically me yearning for things i used to be able to do. i really miss dim sum as an entire experience, so i wrote all about foods i miss eating. and i took the room service scene directly from a cherished memory of mine: my spouse and i stayed at a disney hotel and ordered room service, and they brought it in on a cart for us. i hope one day soon i can do those things again, but in the meantime, i’ll just write about my two favorite war criminals doing them instead :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. industria / diligence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Riza rouses into action as soon as Roy realizes she’s awake. She stands from the bed and sleepily greets him before going to the bathroom, and despite her drowsiness, she still manages to add his title to the end of her hello.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is still in bed when she returns, sitting up against the headboard while he scans through the breakfast menu. “Did you sleep alright last night, Hawkeye?” he asks and looks up from the literature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Riza answers. “The bed is quite comfortable; it was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy agrees, and he wonders if it has something to do with sharing the bed. Just her mere presence comforts him—let alone being under the covers of the same bed, and at one point surrounded by her embrace. (This is just their first night in Xing. What’s Roy going to do once he returns to his own bed in Amestris after a week and a half of sleeping with Riza at his side? He dreads to think of how long it will take him to fall asleep on that first night back.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you’re glad I made you take the bed,” Roy teases with a small smirk. He pats the bed and motions for her to sit beside him. “Come look at the breakfast menu with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza finishes brushing through her hair and sets the brush down on the nightstand before joining Roy on the mattress. “All of this looks delicious,” she says and points to the various pictures of dishes that the kitchen offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get some matcha tea as well,” Roy adds. “I’ve heard that blend is good for getting an early start.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza agrees and leans back against the headboard. She winces lightly when her neck fully relaxes, but she makes no other mention of this discomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your neck bothering you, Hawkeye?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s usually a bit sore after I wake up,” she explains. “Once I stretch and eat, I’ll be alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods. The long scar that the evil doctor left is still visible and a couple of shades darker than the rest of her skin. In Ishval she’d let her hair fall on the side opposite of her injuries to avoid discomfort; now her hair on her neck isn’t an issue, and she doesn’t have to fiddle with it anymore. (Maybe, if Roy’s attempt to heal her scars is successful, she’ll grow her hair out once again.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like for me to order, sir?” Riza asks, breaking his focus. “I can do it today, since you did it last night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy blinks and meets her gaze. He almost falters again from not being fully awake, but responds, “Yes, go ahead.” He hands her the literature before standing from the bed. “Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom and clean up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general enters the bathroom and as he relieves himself of the champagne from last night, his mind briefly returns to their late-night embrace. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will it happen again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He enjoyed the physical contact, even if he was asleep and unaware for a portion of the time. But this trip will not last forever, and it would be more hurtful than helpful if they grew accustomed to lying next to the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy takes a bath cloth from the linens rack and runs it under the water of the sink, stopping the drain so it can fill. He rubs the soft cloth against his face and under his eyes, nose, and chin, fully awakening at the sensation. Opening the tin of shaving cream he set on the side of the sink last night, he swipes a portion on his hand before lathering his face with the sandalwood-scented foam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy Mustang is the youngest brigadier general in the history of the Amestrian military. He has defeated a band of inhuman monsters and rebuilt the homeland of an entire nation of people— but he hasn’t been able to shave steadily for two years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if he couldn’t be more humiliated by his unsteady hands, just as Roy brings the razor to his face, he loses his grip and it falls to the floor with a sharp clatter against the bathroom tile. He winces at the noise and hopes his adjutant decides to ignore the racket. He doesn’t want her to see him like this—struggling to manage a close shave—even if she has witnessed him in much worse conditions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, are you alright?” Riza’s concerned voice comes from the other side of the bathroom door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy curses under his breath. “I’m fine, Hawkeye,” he answers, but it’s clearly a lie. He can’t hide anything from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you decent, sir?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat rushes to Roy’s face, but he assures her that he is. He doesn’t even have time to wonder what her next move will be before Riza’s in the bathroom with him, picking up the razor from the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our third night in the hospital I helped you shave,” Riza says as she rinses the blade before bringing it back to his face. She eases it over the skin of his chin and around his mouth. “You haven’t asked for my help since, even though I offered it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is quiet while she shaves, to keep her from accidentally cutting his skin. When she dips the blade in the sink to rinse off the hair, he explains, “Physical therapy helped when we were in the hospital, so for our time there after that night, I didn’t need you to.” She starts back on his chin, and he stops speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And after we were discharged?” she asks softly and pulls the blade away from his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy meets her gaze. “So what if I let my stubble grow out a couple of times or accidentally nick myself? You aren’t paid to shave my face, Captain. I can’t just make you whenever I need to shave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza sighs and simply shakes her head. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I won’t,” she answers and rinses off the blade for the final time. She dabs his face with the bath cloth, noting how the action is better for his skin. Riza wrings the cloth out in the sink. “How’s that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t nick him once, and the shave is closer than he’d ever be able to manage. He runs his hand over his chin and smiles proudly at Riza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks great, Hawkeye,” he confirms. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their breakfast arrives soon after they both finish cleaning up, and the two swiftly partake in the meal. The food consists of </span>
  <em>
    <span>congee</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Xingese rice porridge, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ji dan bing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, an egg and scallion pancake, and a pot of green matcha tea. If they aren’t fully awake from the instance in the bathroom, they certainly are now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While sitting on the couch and sipping on the last of the tea, Roy looks through the list of names and addresses that his mother left for him in her journal. The first one is the address to the Chang residence in the village of Huangsheng, and there’s a note from his mother stating to travel there </span>
  <em>
    <span>“for obvious reasons”</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Chang clan could be his relatives, or close friends of his mother, but he’s not certain. Still, for some reason, the address seems familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hawkeye,” Roy asks, “did you bring your address book?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Riza nods and motions to her satchel, where she stores the books she brought along for the trip. “It’s in that first pocket, sir,” she answers. “Mei Chang’s address is taped to the inside of the front cover.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy reaches down and takes the satchel before unzipping the front pocket and retrieving her address book. He opens the small spiral notebook and, like Riza said, the address is attached to the front cover. It isn’t in her handwriting; it’s the same sheet of paper given to them by Ling and Lan Fan when they arrived to negotiate in Ishval. He’s thankful that Riza has kept this so long, and by the placement at the front, it appears that Riza had also anticipated a trip to Xing after the restorations were completed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general compares the two addresses, and he can hardly believe his eyes. “These are the same,” he says and scoots down the couch to show Riza. “Mei’s address and the address of the Chang clan are the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think your mother has Mei’s address?” Riza asks and looks up at Roy. “Do you remember if your mother made any mention of the Chang clan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy shakes his head. “I have no idea.” A smile comes across his face as he stands from the couch and adds, “But I think we need to find out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza rises to join him and takes her address book from the general’s hand. She pulls Mei’s address from her book before placing it with his mother’s journal, in her satchel. Smiling, Riza tells him that she’s ready when he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s go, Hawkeye,” Roy declares as he walks to the door of their room. He slips the key to their room in his pocket and holds the door for Riza as she exits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way down to the lobby, and Roy briefly thanks the staff in Xingese for their continued hospitality before they exit the hotel. Once they are out in the street, he hails a cab for the two of them and communicates with the driver as Riza gives the man Mei’s address. The driver agrees to take them, but by his furrowed brows and pursed lips he seems intimidated by the drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, they navigate through the street traffic of Shenzhen, stopping and starting to let pedestrians cross or other cabs and automobiles pass. Their stops range from a couple seconds as a businessperson quickly passes, or a ten minute stretch as an aged farmer pushes carts of his crops across the street. It’s clear that the three of them are on this journey for the long haul. But they don’t stop anywhere in the city; instead the driver takes them to the countryside. There are no tall buildings or bustling businesses, just residential homes spread out between fields and forests of bamboo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The view sparks up the memories of the time he spent in the East with Riza, and all the rides back and forth between her small hometown and Central City. He spent those rides daydreaming about his studies or alchemy, but most of the time, he thought about her. So much has changed since his youth, but some things have remained the same, as he is now thinking about Riza while traveling to a house in the countryside. Only now she is beside him, and he is traveling to the house where she will be healed, instead of the house where she had been hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The driver takes a turn and they travel all the way to the end of a dusty road before he pulls into the driveway of a house on a hillside. The house has a fresh coat of paint and resembles the contemporary Xingese architecture of the cities rather than the neighboring houses of the countryside. It is surrounded with intricate and extensive greenery, and there’s a small pond in the front yard that connects to a river flowing down the side of the hill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cab driver stops the car, and Riza pays the cab fare. It’s a bit of hefty price for the long distance, but it’s manageable with the amount of money that Riza brought. After Roy thanks the driver and they both step out of the vehicle, the driver pulls away from the residence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think Mei will be surprised to see us?” Roy asks as they walk up the side of the hill, taking a pathway designated by stepping stones on a terraformed stairway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza shrugs. “She told you to come find her,” she responds and smiles. “I bet Ling and Lan Fan have kept her informed about what we accomplished in Ishval.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder if she and the Elric brothers are still in touch,” Roy muses, and just as he says this, a blond figure walks out of the froot door. He squints in an attempt to identify the person, but all he can determine is that the figure is likely male.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza’s eyesight is better than his, and her face lights up at the sight of the person. “Sir,” she starts with a growing smile, “I think that’s Alphonse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye, is that you?” the figure calls out, and Roy immediately recognizes the warm, welcoming voice as Alphonse’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy beams, and he and Riza rush up the steps to meet Alphonse. He’s notably grown since he last saw the younger Elric brother—during his time in the hospital—and his style has changed too. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button up and tailored khakis, and Roy’s proud the young man has found a way to express himself through clothing, something he could not have done as a soul bound to a suit of armor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mei, we have visitors!” Alphonse calls out and briefly sticks his head in the doorway of Mei’s home before looking back at Roy and Riza. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei walks out of the house and waves at the two of them with a broad smile. “Mr. Mustang, you found me!” she announces as they take the final step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy can’t help but smile at the sight of the girl, and just like Alphonse, she’s grown so much since he last saw her. Her hair is styled in her signature braided buns, but instead of a light pink outfit, she’s wearing a fitted plum dress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took us a little bit to get here, but I’m proud we came,” Roy replies and smiles at the young girl. He explains that Ling and Lan Fan gave her address to him during the Ishvalan restorations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza smiles at the girl. “You have a lovely home, Miss Mei,” she compliments.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Thank you!” she says cheerily. “It was in shambles before Ling took over as emperor, and he rebuilt it to fulfill his promise to protect my clan. A lot has changed in the past two years around here.” She lets out a sigh but smiles. “Please come in! I have some tea ready if you’d like some.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy shakes his head. “We just ate,” he responds, “but thank you anyway.” He and Riza take off their shoes as they enter and place them on a mat by the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei leads them into the living area and pours a cup of tea for Alphonse and herself before sitting down. “Alphonse has been teaching my mother Amestrian, and I’ve been teaching Alphonse alkahestry for about six months now,” she explains and points to a pile of books on the other side of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s similar to alchemy in practice, but when it comes to studying and learning, that’s a whole other story,” Alphonse says with a chuckle. “But I bet you could pick up on it, Colonel.” He then shakes his head and adds, “Brigadier General, I mean. Brother sent letters about the progress you made in Ishval.” He looks at Riza. “And you’re a captain now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza nods with a smile. “That’s right,” she answers and then looks at Mei. “The general and I actually came here to learn about alkahestry, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei cocks her head in inquiry. “You want to learn alkahestry, Mr. Mustang? I’d be happy to teach you whatever you want to know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Roy confirms. “And I want to know about one other thing too.” He looks at Riza and motions to her satchel, and she promptly takes out his mother’s journal and hands it to him. “My mother was Xingese, and this is her journal.” He holds it up for Mei to see. “Your address is written inside.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young girl’s face scrunches up indecipherably, and she excuses herself briefly. Rushing out of the living area and into the library down the hallway, she comes back to the three Amestrians quickly with a single photograph in hand. She places it on the table and Roy is shocked to find the face of his own mother staring back at him, standing with another woman close in age and similar in appearance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is my mother Lihua with her sister Xiaolu,” Mei explains, her hands shaking as she brings the teacup to her lips. “She always told me stories about her sister, who met an Amestrian named Theodore stationed by the Xingese railroad. Mama said they died in an accident at the old railroad many years ago, and she wasn’t able to get into contact with anyone about you. When I came back here, I couldn’t wait to tell her I met a man named Roy Mustang.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is speechless. Growing up, Madame Christmas would share pieces of his parents’ love story to the hopelessly romantic boy. How his mother Xiaolu was studying architecture at the university in Shenzhen—the closest major city to Huangsheng—and worked at the library to offset some of the costs of her education. How his father Theodore was stationed as military security at the Shenzhen station hundreds of miles away from his own home country, and would go to the library sometimes to check out books in Amestrian, hundreds of miles away from his own home country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to Madame Christmas, the two barely knew enough of the other language to communicate, but over time they would read children’s books together and gained rudimentary understandings of Amestrian and Xingese. Theodore offered a life for them in Amestris with his money, and once she graduated they moved together to Central.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though those stories warmed his heart and gave him a reason to believe in love despite his upbringing in a hostess bar, the idea that a life together could be cut short so quickly and abruptly, with little to show for it, deeply pained him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Were they good people?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Unable to make that judgment for himself, he’s always sought to create a path where he could be good, so that the vagueness of his parents would not matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a result of this stubborn desire to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> (whatever that even meant), Roy has spent his entire life as an Amestrian, doing all the things he thought were right for a person like him. He went to a good school, he became an apprentice to a wise alchemist, he became a soldier and eventual war hero—</span>
  <em>
    <span>more like war criminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>—but now he’s looking right at someone who has revealed information that could break his motivations right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth is not just that the blood of Xing flows through his veins, passed on through his deceased mother. It’s that someone born of the same line of blood is sitting right across from him, casually sipping tea, and that somewhere in the house is at least one other person with knowledge of who his mother was. And maybe even his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In another life he’d rise and embrace Mei in response to this revelation. He’d ask to meet Mei’s mother, and introduce her to the woman sitting right at his side as the greatest joy of his life, his beloved. They’d rummage through photo albums, and Roy would ask if there are any belongings of his mother’s still in this house, or anything else that they think she would want him to see. He would bring them into Shenzhen and they’d eat at all the places his mother loved in the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead he is silent, barely able to even hear the sound of his own breath. His hands are somehow both cold and sweaty, and it’s impossible to determine whether it’s because of the gloves he’s wearing or his own inner crisis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice shakes as he attempts to formulate a sentence. Anything, really, to break the silence. He’s never been one to find discomfort in silence; after all, his entire relationship with his adjutant has been rooted in the unspoken. Still, he’s compelled to fill the space with something. “Mei—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Mustang, you are my biǎo gē,” Mei answers, bowing her head slightly. “No one in our family ever thought we would find you, but now you’re here.” She smiles at Roy warmly, setting her saucer and teacup down on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a true opportunity here. A chance to explore another part of who he is, a part he’s never been able to connect to for a variety of reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, if his Xingese heritage isn’t something he has ever participated in or explored, is it really his to claim?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Journal still in hand, Roy carefully and methodically pulls out the photo of his parents tucked away in one of the pages and holds it up for Mei and Alphonse to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xiaolu Chang-Mustang and Lieutenant General Theodore Mustang,” he reads from the back of the photo. “This is the only photo I have of my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“General, you look just like both of them,” Alphonse remarks thoughtfully, taking his chin into his fingers in apparent thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei’s eyes are full of hope and warmth as she looks up from the photo at Roy. “Mr. Mustang—biǎo gē—would you like to look at more photos of Xiaolu?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you known this, Mei?” he asks, ignoring her. His hands are trembling as he tucks the photo back into the journal. He doesn’t know why he’s asking her this question—the answer won’t change anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates before admitting, “I knew the moment I met you. But I didn’t want to say anything, since you and Miss Riza were so badly wounded.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Handing the journal to Riza and rising from his seat, he makes his way to the front door quietly. “Mei, the captain and I will be back at the same time tomorrow. Hawkeye, write down our hotel information for them in case they need to reach us at any point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza mumbles a hasty apology on their behalf and scribbles their hotel name, address, and phone number on a piece of paper for Mei. Meanwhile, Roy walks out of the house and onto the street, his eyes darting to and fro, his breathing growing erratic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Roy waits for his adjutant to follow him—as she always does—he focuses on a breathing exercise she taught him when they were rebuilding Ishval. Pushing out all of the breath in his lungs, he pauses for a few moments before inhaling deeply. He exhales slowly again, and the tension he’s holding in his neck begins to dissipate. Continuing to focus on breathing at a snail’s pace, his shoulders begin to soften, but tears still begin to gather in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza’s footsteps approach hurriedly. “Sir, why did you get up like that? Are you alright?” she asks, her tone laced with both confusion and worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy wants to reach out to her and ask for an embrace, or a gentle stroke on his forehead, or a hand on the shoulder. But even in the countryside of Xing, on the property of his mother’s family, there’s only so much he can do or say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has always been open about his pain with her, but this moment has brought up all his anxieties: that Riza will tire of his vulnerability, that the labor she puts into his care will become too much for her. After all, she deserves so much more than what has happened to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So just this once, he turns away and hides his tears as he whispers, “Captain, I didn’t know it rained in Xing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Roy prepares to head into Huangsheng by himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He explains to Riza verbally that he’s going to learn about alkahestry, but the explanation is hollow, and he knows it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She purses her lips. “Do you really think I’m going to let you go so far into the countryside of Xing unaccompanied?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He argues that Riza has nothing to occupy herself while he learns about the intricacies of alkahestry, but she stubbornly rejects his need to go alone, pointing out that not only would it be the same no matter her location, but that she also needs to protect him, regardless of location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two climb into a taxi again and this drive is just as harried as the one from the day before, with lots of stop-and-go traffic. Roy has very little to discuss in the car, and he has to fight the urge to fall asleep as he leans against the window. He’s prone to falling asleep when he’s upset because he’s never known any other way to cope with his feelings. He knows there has to be another way, but old habits die hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They arrive at the Chang clan’s house at approximately 1000—or at least that’s what Roy’s State Alchemist pocket watch says when they exit the taxi. After paying their driver, the two approach the front door and Mei is sitting on the stoop, thumbing through a book and tracing along the pavement with her foot. She’s humming to herself, and as Riza and Roy look into the door they find Alphonse sitting inside with a book by himself, accompanied by Mei’s strange black-and-white animal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t sure if you really would come,” Mei admits, not even looking up from her book. “I figured I’d wait out here and if you didn’t come, at least I’d get some fresh air. After all, the air is much better in the countryside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, Riza demonstrates a strong grasp of Xingese etiquette as she bows deeply, lowering not just her shoulders but also her head. “I apologize on behalf of the general,” she states.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to be so formal, Miss Riza,” Mei responds, setting her book down and meeting the captain’s gaze. “Besides, you can’t control what others do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her comment is wise beyond her years, and Roy pauses to marvel at her emotional maturity. It’s far more than what he demonstrated the day before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza nudges his side gently with her elbow, and he stands straight at attention, almost as if she is the commanding officer and he’s the adjutant. She has a habit of bringing out his deferential side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Mei,” he mumbles. He’d hardly consider himself prideful, but he’s not used to apologizing to children, and as a general in the Amestrian military his instinct is to salute when being polite, not bow. “As you can imagine, it was a lot to take in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei hums in acknowledgment, rising from her seat on the stoop and inviting them inside the house. She gestures them towards the same chairs as yesterday and takes her own seat next to Al, who has put his book down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to admit,” Roy begins, his chest shaking with nerves, “I’m not ready to learn more about family just yet. I came back to learn alkahestry, just like I said when I arrived yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general is painfully aware of Mei’s disappointment in the way her shoulders slump and face sinks, but the revelation of his family connection and history is secondary compared to freeing his captain of the pain he caused her so long ago. After all, he’s known Riza almost his entire life and they’ve survived so much together—childhood, genocide, and espionage, just to name a few. This revelation doesn’t change anything about his motivations or priorities. For now it’s just another piece of information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl sighs softly before shrugging. “Sure.” Mei turns to her companion. “Alphonse, I’m going into the library to get Mr. Mustang settled with the basics. I think we’ll have to put our own lessons on hold for a little while, at least until I can get him some of the translations you started with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza clears her throat. “I’d be delighted to keep you company here and catch up, Alphonse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei’s eyes light up at Riza’s kindness towards Al. She plants an affectionate kiss on his forehead and leads Roy into the library, which is down the hall with the door slightly ajar. He’s startled both by how openly affectionate she is with Al and just how extensive their family library is: there is one wall covered end-to-end, floor-to ceiling in a bookcase, with smaller bookcases and shelves through the room as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most of these texts are in Xingese, but ever since I went to Amestris, I knew I’d have to do some translations,” Mei explains. “I think the world needs to know about how alkahestry can be used for healing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing in the doorway, Roy is overwhelmed with the knowledge that this library is likely home to the first book his mother ever read. That this room may not look the same as it did when she was a child, but that she probably read fables and stories on these shelves. That there may be items of hers somewhere in this house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts are quickly interrupted by Mei. In front of the bookcase is a desk and chair, and she takes a seat, putting on a pair of glasses in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Mustang, before we start…” She props her elbows up on the desk and rests her chin on her fingers—a gesture Roy often does when lost in thought. “I want to teach you things that are useful. Can you tell me what, or why, you want to learn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course this young girl doesn’t mean it to be, but the question is loaded nonetheless. The first answer that comes to mind is incredibly long-winded: years ago he learned the teachings of flame alchemy and used that same power to eventually destroy its remnants on this earth, on the flesh of his captain. Still, that answer would only lead to more questions, and Roy isn’t ready to cope with answering questions when he has so many of his own. And at the end of the day, details aside, his reason for learning alkahestry is the same as the reason he’s made so many other decisions in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s someone very important to me,” he explains simply. “Someone who I hurt. Even though they asked me to do it, I still wish I hadn’t done it, and I want to make things right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei grins knowingly. “It’s Miss Riza you’re talking about, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings his palm to his temple, a habit when he’s stressed or otherwise doesn’t want to deal with a particular situation. “With all due respect, Mei, I came here to learn about alkahestry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She explains that she simply wants to ensure she teaches him what he wants and needs to know. “But Mr. Mustang, you know you can’t hide how you feel about her, right? Remember, the first thing you did when she was dying was run to her side. You almost died, just to be able to get to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs dismissively—even though she’s most certainly correct—and explains that she is a valuable member of his team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One thing I hope to teach you more about is qi. We can talk about it in more detail, but the important thing to know is it’s the energy someone gives off. You can tell if someone is happy, sad, angry, hurt, and all those other kinds of things. I know you care so much about Miss Riza because the moment we left her behind just now your qi changed. And when you walked out yesterday, her qi changed, so I know she cares about you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s unsure if he should be impressed or scared that this young woman has been able to decipher so much from that one moment. But as someone wise beyond her years, it’s easy to tell that she understands discretion. “She means everything to me, Mei. She asked me to use alchemy to hurt her, and I did, but it causes her pain to this day and I need to make her whole again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei rises from the seat and begins to rifle through the bookshelf. “Her qi is whole when you are with her,” she states simply, pulling a book and placing it on the desk before continuing to look for more material. “But I’m sure she would appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day is a blur to Roy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Mei explains the concepts of qi and the Dragon’s Pulse, but he has difficulty understanding it. After all, for many years Roy was taught that the alchemy in Amestris is based on power harnessed through tectonic plates deep within the earth’s core. In reality, every transmutation he ever performed was powered through the energy of Father’s Philosopher’s Stone, which was in the way of the true source of power Roy was taught about. As a result, after the Promised Day, he and many other alchemists had a difficult time adjusting their use of alchemy to suit the change in energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t feel bad, Mr. Mustang,” she reassures gently. “Alphonse had a hard time when we first started, too. He went so long without a body, and all his alchemy was based off of Father’s stone, so it wasn’t easy for him to be able to sense others’ qi. I’m sure you’ll understand it in no time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her kindness warms him, but at the same time he reminds himself that Alphonse Elric performed a human transmutation at the age of 10. Roy didn’t exhibit even half that level of alchemic prowess at that age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They discuss qi until Mei announces that it’s lunchtime. The two leave the library and walk back into the living room, where Al and Riza are chatting animatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering that Mei and Al are not the only occupants of the house, Roy asks if anyone else will be joining them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei shakes her head. “I didn’t think you were ready, so I didn’t tell Mama about yesterday. I asked that she stay in her room for the day to allow me to entertain some guests.” She pauses. “But I can’t keep her in there forever, so I hope you can find it in yourself to meet her soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunch is short and sweet, consisting of kung pao chicken and mixed vegetables. Roy doesn’t even realize his hunger until he makes his way to the kitchen, and the scent of hoisin and soy sauce immediately fills his nose upon entry. His mouth waters and his stomach growls in anticipation before the general swiftly puts away his entire plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After cleaning the dishes and silverware, Mei and Roy go outside to continue their lessons. She brings a book with her, but it isn’t some ancient text on alkahestry. Instead, it’s an encyclopedia, and two pages are marked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like you didn’t get my first explanation, so think of the body as the Earth,” Mei begins and turns to one of the pages, a flat topographical map of the Earth. Browns and greens denote the land masses, while blues show the rivers and oceans. This map also has elevation lines and displays the differences between mountain ranges and sea levels. “The Earth has all sorts of diverse ecosystems functioning all at once. If something were to upset these ecosystems, the world would be out of balance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei flips to another page in the book, a diagram of human anatomy. “Just like the Earth, the body has multiple organ systems working together at once to keep you alive. If one stops working, say the heart for example, the body is unable to function.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does the body and the Earth have to do with alkahestry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting there,” she answers, and her attention returns to the book in front of her. “Qi is the beating heart of the Earth. It maintains balance throughout nature, and it not only flows through the Earth, it courses in the veins of all people. It gives us our connection to the planet, and it is what alkahestrists use in our practice. By harnessing the qi in the earth, you can heal the components of a person’s body by allowing their own qi to flow through them and to their wounds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy lets out a heavy exhale as he takes in all the new information. Reflecting on how Mei healed Riza underground, he asks, “And you harness the qi through the circle you draw, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei nods. “The purification circle. It’s similar to the transmutation circle that you and Alphonse used, but it draws from the qi of the Earth and your own control over the qi in your body.” She pauses and looks at Roy. “Would you like to practice drawing a purification circle? I have some chalk you can use. ” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy silently nods, and Mei walks back into her house to retrieve the supplies. While she’s gone, he ponders the differences between and a transmutation and a purification circle. He hasn’t required chalk for his circles in a long time due to his transmutation gloves, so he’s nervous to return to his roots of hand-drawn arrays. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei returns from the inside of her home and places a stick of white chalk into his palm. She also places a piece of paper beside him, a purification circle drawn on it for him to reference. She smiles at him and says, “Alphonse started out on concrete, too. You’ll get a hang of it right quick, I’m sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will my hands—” Roy falters, “—will my hands be an issue?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl smiles sympathetically. “When harnessing qi, your body is steady. You’re going to be alright, Mr. Mustang.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy takes her reassurance to heart as he grips the chalk between his fingers and begins to draw. His hand flows with each stroke of his chalk, sharp white against grey concrete as he connects the lines of a five-point star within a circle. The feeling is almost identical to that of drawing a transmutation circle, but this one is somehow more—well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pure. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This array doesn’t carry the personal history and weight that the one on his glove does. The purpose of flame alchemy is to destroy, while the basis of alkahestry is to heal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy welcomes the change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was great, Mr. Mustang!” Mei exclaims and claps her hands together. “I knew you would be fine.” She smiles at him and gives him his next instruction: to keep drawing circles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy practices sketching the array on the concrete with chalk for about an hour, and the motion begins to feel natural. He slowly shifts from the pavement to the dirt, first with a stick and then with the tip of his shoe. He knows the pattern of the array as if he’s been drawing it for years. The physical part of alkahestry is simple to Roy. After hours of practice, Roy is no longer worried about his hands or his ability to draw the array, but he’s still unsure if he’ll even be able to harness any power through this array. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alchemy is rooted in science. Roy </span>
  <em>
    <span>understands</span>
  </em>
  <span> science; he’s studied it his entire life, before and during his time in the military. But the basis of alkahestry is medicine—he doesn’t know the first thing about healing, outside of basic medical courses at the academy. Physical healing is more than just cellular restoration, but how can he heal someone when all he’s ever done is cause pain? Is he even capable of performing alkahestry after all he has done? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he closes in a purification circle with his stick, he hopes that Mei has not taught him something he is unable to learn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Mustang,” Mei begins, moving to his side from her seat on the steps. “Alphonse tells me you restored Ishval.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy sets his stick on the ground. “It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>me who restored Ishval,” he tells her. “It was Scar and the rest of the Ishvalans, everyone in the unit—especially Captain Hawkeye. And it wouldn’t have been possible without Fuhrer Grumman, who signed off on the order for us to even begin the restorations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei smiles. “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Not everyone can rebuild the home of an entire nation of people in two years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it wasn’t just—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” Mei interrupts. “Sure, a few people might have had that same idea, but you were the one who acted on it. Miss Riza wrote letters to Ed, who passed the information on to Alphonse, and he told me everything. So don’t act like I don’t know what you did over there for two years.” Her smile is now a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The general sighs. Once again, his younger cousin proves that she is wise beyond her years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were able to restore Ishval, you’ll be able to heal Miss Riza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy smiles. “Thank you, Mei.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun sets over the horizon, and this concludes their training for the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s on their fifth day in Xing that Roy notices Riza’s growing discomfort. He originally believed that it was just due to their long train ride, but as the week progresses, Riza shows more and more signs of increased stiffness in her neck, and worsened pain in her back. It’s taking her longer to fall asleep every night, and she spends more time laying in bed in the morning than he does. It may be due to the extended car rides at morning and night, or the humidity in Xing that neither of them are accustomed to. But no matter the reason, Roy wants to end her pain and discomfort, once and for all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they arrive at Mei’s home, he asks if there’s any way she can speed up his lessons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Their original goal was to spend three days working without actually harnessing any energy, and then three more days working with alkahestry in practice. On the night of the sixth day, he would do what he came here to do, and they would return to the hotel that night with Riza as healed as much as she could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he can’t possibly follow that schedule now, not with Riza being in the extra pain that she is. Medication no longer relieves any physical pain she feels, so there’s no use trying to stall for time with the use of pain pills.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done very well so far, Mr. Mustang,” Mei says as she gathers materials from around her library. “Today and tomorrow we can practice actual alkahestry, and if I see that you are ready and you feel comfortable, we can try tomorrow night.” She tells him to wait in the living room while she finishes adjusting and preparing for their lessons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy thanks her profusely and returns to the living room. He sits down on the couch beside Riza,  who’s drinking a cup of ginger tea. (Mei brewed it for her, saying it helps with inflammation.) He then informs her of the updated lesson plans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We still have time, sir,” Riza says and rubs her neck, either out of anxiety or discomfort. “I can manage a few more days if it means you get to practice more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy shakes his head. He desperately wants to take her hand in his and tell her that he loves her. Instead, he declares, “I cannot let you suffer any longer, or any more, than I already have.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riza’s eyes soften, and she responds with an understanding nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei enters the room shortly afterward with the small metal markers used to activate the purification circles. She signals for Roy to come with her, and he follows her outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, they are practicing in the back garden. Just off of the house is a patio paved with the same concrete as the front, but most of the backyard is natural. There’s a flowing water fountain in the center of the yard, surrounded by multiple flower pots. To the right of the fountain is a bountiful vegetable garden, where almost all of the crops are ripe and ready to be harvested. On the other side of the fountain is a swing with detailed and intricate designs carved into the woodwork of the frame. An older Xingese woman—Mei’s mother—sits in it, and she pushes herself back and forth with her foot as she watches the fountain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama likes to sit outside in the morning,” Mei explains and smiles softly in her mother’s direction. “Are you okay with her watching us work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods, even if he’s quite nervous to be in her presence. But, this will make it easier when he does finally sit down and talk to her. It has to be soon, but he’s still apprehensive to introduce himself to his mother’s remaining sister. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did she have any other siblings?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He makes a note to ask her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei takes him to the front of the vegetable garden and spreads out a red picnic blanket. She places their materials on the blanket, and they both sit down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, harnessing alkahestry is quite similar to performing alchemy,” she starts and places the metal markers in between her and Roy. “However, these alkahestric markers are key to channeling any energy, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>you place them is just as important.” When the markers are thrown at the same time, the energy is destructive and uncontrolled, used in combat alkahestry. However, when the markers are placed individually or thrown in sequence, the energy is restorative and stable, used in medicinal alkahestry. The second method—the most commonly practiced—is the one Roy will learn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei pushes the metal markers to Roy. “Draw a circle and place the markers,” she instructs and then raises from the ground. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles and then walks off from their area to the other side of the fountain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy stands and takes a stray stick from the ground to use when sketching the array. He draws the purification circle and takes each of the markers from the blanket, placing them at each point of the star in the center. When he looks up, Mei is in front of him, and she’s holding a flower, a bright red rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pricks her finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy almost asks why she would purposely pierce her skin, but he remembers that there has to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>injury in order to practice medicinal alkahestry. Still, his instincts kick in and he asks her if she’s alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei smiles and quickly nods her head. “I did this all the time for Alphonse,” she says. “This is no big deal.” A drop of blood rolls down her finger. “Are you ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a heavy question, but even with all the blood he’s seen in his life, he can’t stand the sight of his closest living relative in pain. “Yes,” he shakily says, even though he’s trying to keep a level head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them kneel to the ground, and Mei places her hand in the circle. “Control your qi through the purification circle, just as you would energy in a transmutation array. Let it flow from within the Earth, through you, and to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy looks at the small tear on her finger and places his hand above hers and in the center of the circle. He focuses on each of the metal markers and connects each one of them with his eyes before centering on Mei’s hand, and blue sparks briefly appear. He gasps but keeps his focus, and in a moment, the lightning has vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei’s eyes are wide as she turns over her hand and examines her finger. She wipes away the lingering blood and meet’s Roy’s gaze. “It’s healed,” she says. “You did it, Mr. Mustang!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy gapes, but a smile quickly spreads across his face. His mind immediately goes to Riza, how he can’t wait to tell her about his newfound abilities; how he’s one step closer to fulfilling the promise he made before they came to Xing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even Alphonse picked it up this quickly!” Mei exclaims and beams at Roy. “I’m going to go share the news, and we can get back to it, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy nods as pride swells in his chest. It was though the power just came to him, and he’s overwhelmingly glad to have healed Mei’s finger so easily. While it won’t be as simple with Riza’s injuries—her wounds are much older and more extensive—Roy’s positive that he will be able to heal her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice comes out from across the backyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy stands up and scans the vicinity to see who spoke. At first, he thinks it might have been Mei’s, but she is nowhere to be seen. The only other person in the garden is his aunt, and her eyes set directly are on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older woman—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lihua</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Roy remembers—waves for him to come over, still rocking in the swing as she calls for him again. Roy’s stomach flips as he walks across the garden. He stops at the swing, and she pats the empty space next to her. Roy swallows back his nervousness and sits down beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of silence between them before the woman turns to Roy and says, “You’re Xiaolu’s son, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy loses his breath. His hands tremble viciously, and he grips the fabric of his pants in order to steady them. He can hardly look at the woman who so painfully resembles the photos of his mother. Tears brim in his eyes when he quietly answers, “Yes, ma’am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile spreads across Lihua's aged visage. She takes a handkerchief from her shirt pocket and wipes under his eyes, just as his tears fall. “Wàishēng, what is your name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roy,” he says. “My name is Roy Mustang.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lihua bows her head and presses the cloth into his palm. “Xiaolu made this during her last stay here,” she explains. “I believe you should have it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roy is speechless. There’s no stopping the tears now, and he wipes his eyes with his mother’s final creation. It’s the softest cloth he’s ever felt. “Thank you,” he manages as his chest heaves up and down, and Lihua pulls him into a tight hug. “Thank you so much.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>priscilla: life got ahead of both vade and i, but thankfully we were able to get back into writing this. she did such a fabulous job bringing mei’s home to life and tapping into roy’s anxieties about healing riza. we hope to have our final chapter done in short order and we’re excited to show you how we envision the end of this story!</p><p>vade: like priscilla said, this chapter took us a while to write, but i think it was worth it. i got to write with mei and i’ve been looking forward to doing that the whole time we’ve been writing this, and she’s a joy to write! and of course, there’s heart-breaking angst and introspection from priscilla, doing what they do best! i can’t believe this story is coming to a close, thank you all so much for the continued support and we hope you enjoy this chapter!</p><p>edit: we received a comment about the accuracy of mei's mother's name, so her name has been changed from "Mingmei" to "Lihua" out of respect for chinese naming tradition. also, because we are discussing a fictionalized version of china, here are two links for you to visit and organizations to support: the <a href="https://www.asianmhc.org/">Asian Mental Health Collective</a> and <a href="https://www.advancingjustice-alc.org/">Asian Americans Advancing Justice - Asian Law Caucus</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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